as
bidden to deliver them into no hand but his, and to destroy both
them and myself sooner than let them fall into alien hands."

At that the door opened wider yet, and Cuthbert could look along a
dark stone passage, at the end of which glowed a light. His
companion's first suspicions now appeared laid to rest.

"Come in, come in. Speak not thus aloud without, even at this dead
hour of dim loneliness. Men like ourselves stand in sore need of
every caution. Come in, and let me lock the door behind us. There
may be spies lurking even round these walls."

"Spies!" echoed Cuthbert, as he strode along the passage towards
the light. "I fear no spies; I have naught to conceal!"

But the other man was drawing the heavy bolts, and did not hear
this remark. He followed Cuthbert into the great vaulted kitchen,
which was illumined by a noble fire, the warmth of which was very
welcome to the youth after his chilly voyage on the river. There
was some cooking going on at the stove, and an appetizing odour
filled the air.

Cuthbert turned his curious glance upon the custodian of this
strange place, and saw a man who was evidently a gentleman, though
very plainly and simply dressed, and employed at this moment in
menial toil. He had a thin, worn face, and his eyes gleamed
brightly under their heavy brows. He looked like one who had seen
both trouble and suffering, and had grown somewhat reckless under
successive miseries,

He on his side was attentively regarding Cuthbert.

"Thy name, good youth?" he asked abruptly.

"Cuthbert Trevlyn," was the unhesitating rejoinder.

The lad had not yet learned the prudence of reticence in dealing
with strangers. He was neither ashamed of his errand nor of his
name.

"Trevlyn--Trevlyn. It is a good name, and I have heard it before. I
have heard Catesby speak of thee. So thou hast come with papers for
him? Art thou indeed to be one of us?"

The question was asked almost in a whisper, accompanied by a very
keen and searching glance. Cuthbert did not exactly know what to
make of it.

He shook his head as he replied:

"Nay, I know naught of that. I am but a messenger from Father
Urban, who was in sore straits but two days back, and well-nigh
fell into the hands of his foes with these papers upon him. I had
the good hap to help him to escape the peril; and as he was sore
hurt, he begged of me to carry them to Master Catesby and deliver
them with mine own hand. This have I come to do. He