him. Here,
about him, was open ground on either side of the road on which he
walked; and there, in front, rose up on the slope of the hill the long
line of great old houses, beyond the stream that ran down into the
Thames--old Religious Houses for the most part, now disguised and pulled
about beyond recognition, ranging right and left from the Ludgate
itself: behind these rose again towers and roofs, and high above all the
tall spire of the Cathedral, as if to gather all into one, culminant
aspiration.... The light from the west lay on every surface that looked
to his left, golden and rosy; elsewhere lay blue and dusky shadows.

II

"There is a letter for you, air," said the landlord, who had an uneasy
look on his face, as the priest came through the entrance of the inn.

Robin took it. Its superscription ran shortly: "To Mr. Alban, at the Red
Bull Inn in Cheapside. Haste. Haste. Haste."

He turned it over; it was sealed plainly on the back without arms or any
device; it was a thick package, and appeared as if it might hold an
enclosure or two.

Robin had learned caution in a good school, and what is yet more vital
in true caution, an appearance of carelessness. He weighed the packet
easily in his hand, as if it were of no value, though he knew it might
contain very questionable stuff from one of his friends, and glanced at
a quantity of baggage that lay heaped beside the wall.

"What is all this?" he said. "Another party arrived?"

"No, sir; the party is leaving. Rather, it is left already; and the
gentlemen bade me have the baggage ready here. They would send for it
later, they told me."

This was unusually voluble from this man. Robin looked at him quickly,
and away again.

"What party?" he said.

"The gentlemen you were with this two nights past, sir," said the
landlord keenly.

Robin was aware of a feeling as if a finger had been laid on his heart;
but not a muscle of his face moved.

"Indeed!" he said. "They told me nothing of it."

Then he moved on easily, feeling the landlord's eyes in every inch of
his back, and went leisurely upstairs.

He reached his room, bolted the door softly behind him, and sat down.
His heart was going now like a hammer. Then he opened the packet; an
enclosure fell out of it, also sealed, but without direction of any
kind. Then he saw that the sheet in which the packet had come was itself
covered with writing, rather large and sprawling, as if written in
haste. He pu