mn leaves that lay strewn in the
garden at the back door of the house. To those who had nothing to fear
such a step would have said nothing; but to those who had enemies it was
terrible. For it was a foot trying to be noiseless.

Martin fitted an arrow to his string and hastily blew out the candle. At
this moment, to their horror, they heard more than one footstep approach
the other door of the cottage, not quite so noiselessly as the other,
but very stealthily--and then a dead pause.

Their blood froze in their veins.

"Oh, Kate, oh, Kate! You said fly on the instant." And Margaret moaned
and wrung her hands in anguish and terror and wild remorse for having
kept Gerard.

"Hush, girl!" said Martin, in a stern whisper.

A heavy knock fell on the door.

And on the hearts within.

CHAPTER XIV

As if this had been a concerted signal, the back door was struck as
rudely the next instant. They were hemmed in. But at these alarming
sounds Margaret seemed to recover some share of self-possession. She
whispered, "Say he was here, but is gone." And with this she seized
Gerard and almost dragged him up the rude steps that led to her father's
sleeping-room. Her own lay next beyond it.

The blows on the door were repeated.

"Who knocks at this hour?"

"Open, and you will see!"

"I open not to thieves--honest men are all abed now."

"Open to the law, Martin Wittenhaagen, or you shall rue it."

"Why, that is Dirk Brower's voice, I trow. What make you so far from
Tergou?"

"Open, and you will know."

Martin drew the bolt very slowly, and in rushed Dierich and four more.
They let in their companion who was at the back door.

"Now, Martin, where is Gerard Eliassoen?"

"Gerard Eliassoen? Why, he was here but now!"

"Was here?" Dierich's countenance fell. "And where is he now?"

"They say he has gone to Italy. Why, what is to do?"

"No matter. When did he go? Tell me not that he went in such a storm as
this!"

"Here is a coil about Gerard Eliassoen," said Martin contemptuously.
Then he lighted the candle, and seating himself coolly by the fire,
proceeded to whip some fine silk round his bow-string at the place where
the nick of the arrow frets it.

"I'll tell you," said he carelessly. "Know you his brother Giles?--a
little misbegotten imp, all head and arms? Well, he came tearing over
here on a mule, and bawled out something, I was too far off to hear the
creature's words, but only its noise. Any way, he s