rors unspeakable, still cowered like a
whipped dog before its master, and was as little likely to rebel.

Colonel John leant upon such arguments; and, disappointed and alarmed
as he was by Flavia's behaviour, he told himself that nothing was
seriously meant, and that with the morning light things would look more
cheerful.

But when he awoke, after a feverish and disturbed sleep, the faint
grisly dawn that entered the room was not of a character to inspirit.
He turned on his side to sleep again if he could; but in the act, he
discovered that the curtain which he had drawn across the window was
withdrawn. He could discern the dark mass of his clothes piled on a
chair, of his hat clinging like some black bat to the whitewashed wall,
of his valise and saddle-bags in the corner--finally of a stout figure
bent, listening, at the door.

An old campaigner, Colonel John was not easily surprised. Repressing
the exclamation on his lips, he rose to his elbow and waited until the
figure at the door straightened itself, and, turning towards him,
became recognisable as Uncle Ulick. The big man crossed the floor, saw
that he was awake, and, finger on lip, enjoined silence. Then he
pointed to the clothes on the chair, and brought his mouth near the
Colonel's ear.

"The back-door!" he whispered. "Under the yews in the garden! Come!"
And leaving the Colonel staring and mystified, he crept from the room
with a stealth and lightness remarkable in one so big. The door closed,
the latch fell, and made no sound.

Colonel John reflected that Uncle Ulick was no romantic young person to
play at mystery for effect. There was a call for secrecy therefore. The
O'Beirnes slept in a room divided from his only by a thin partition;
and to gain the stairs he must pass the doors of other chambers, all
inhabited. As softly as he could, and as quickly, he dressed himself.
He took his boots in his hand; his sword, perhaps from old habit, under
his other arm; in this guise he crept from the room and down the dusky
staircase. Old Darby and an underling were snoring in the cub, which in
the daytime passed for a pantry, and both by day and night gave forth a
smell of sour corks and mice: but Colonel John slid by the open door as
noiselessly as a shadow, found the back-door--which led to the
fold-yard--on the latch, and stepped out into the cool, dark morning,
into the sobering freshness and the clean, rain-washed air.

The grass was still grey-hued, the w