ed
at Fotheringay, and whom he had seen again in Derby a while later. Next,
if it were this man, he would almost certainly make for Padley if he
were disturbed.

Mr. Audrey had bitten his nails a while as he listened to this, and then
had suddenly consented. The plan suggested was simple enough. One little
troop should ride to Padley, gathering reinforcements on the way, and
another on foot should set out for the shepherd's hut. Then, if the
priest should be gone, this second party should come on towards Padley
immediately and join forces with the riders.

All this had been done, and the mounted company, led by the magistrate
himself, had come up from the valley in time to see the signalling from
the heights (contrived by the showing of lights now and again), which
indicated that the priest was moving in the direction that had been
expected, and that one man at least was on his track. They had waited
there, in the valley, till the intermittent signals had reached the
level ground and ceased, and had then ridden up cautiously in time to
meet the informer's companion, and to learn that the fugitive had
doubled suddenly back towards Booth's Edge. There they had waited then,
till the dawn was imminent, and, with it, there came the party on foot,
as had been arranged; then, all together, numbering about twenty-five
men, they had pushed on in the direction of Mistress Manners' house.

As the house came into view, more than ever Mr. Audrey reproached his
evil luck. Certainly there still were two or three chances to one that
no priest would be taken at all; since, first, the man might not be a
priest, and next, he might have passed the manor and plunged back again
into the hills. But it was not very pleasant work, this rousing of a
house inhabited by a woman for whom the magistrate had very far from
unkindly feelings, and on such an errand.... So the informers marvelled
at the venom with which Mr. Audrey occasionally whispered at them in the
dark.

His heart sank as he caught a glimpse of a light first showing, and then
suddenly extinguished, in the windows of the hall, but he was relieved
to hear no comment on it from the men who walked by his horse; he even
hoped that they had not seen it.... But he must do his duty, he said to
himself.

* * * * *

He grew a little warm and impatient when no answer came to the knocking.
He said such play-acting was absurd. Why did not the man come out
co