CHAPTER XI
THE GARDEN-HOUSE
During that long afternoon the master of the house had sat in his ownroom, before his table, hearing the ceaseless footsteps and the voicesoverhead, and the ring of feet on the tiles outside his window, knowingthat his friend and priest was somewhere in the house, crouching in somedark little space, listening to the same footsteps and voices as theycame and went by his hiding-place, and that he himself was absolutelypowerless to help.
He had been overpowered in the first rush as he pealed on the alarm-bell,to which he had rushed when the groom burst in from the stable-yardcrying that the outer court was full of men. Lackington had then sent himunder guard to his own room, where he had been locked in with an armedconstable to prevent any possibility of escape. In the struggle he hadreceived a blow on the head which had completely dazed him; all hisresource left him; and he had no desire even to move from his chair.
Now he sat, with his head on his breast, and his mind going the ceaselessround of all the possible places where Anthony might be. Little scenes,too, of startling vividness moved before him, as he sat there withhalf-closed eyes--scenes of the imagined arrest--the scuffle as theportrait was torn away and Anthony burst out in one last desperateattempt to escape. He saw him under every kind of circumstance--dashingup stairs and being met at the top by a man with a pike--running andcrouching through the withdrawing-room itself next door--gliding withburning eyes past the yew-hedges in a rush for the iron gates, only tofind them barred--on horseback with his hands bound and a despairinguplifted face with pike-heads about him.--So his friend dreamed miserablyon, open-eyed, but between waking and the sleep of exhaustion, until thecrowning vision flashed momentarily before his eyes of the scaffold andthe cauldron with the fire burning and the low gallows over the heads ofthe crowd, and the butcher's block and knife; and then he moaned and satup and stared about him, and the young pursuivant looked at himhalf-apprehensively.
Towards evening the house grew quieter; once, about six o'clock, therewere voices outside, the door from the hall was unlocked, and aheavily-built, ruddy man came in with two pikemen, locking the doorbehind him. They paid no attention to the prisoner, and he watched themmechanically as they went round the room, running their eyes up and downthe panelling, and tapping here and there.
"The room has been searched, sir, already," said the young constable tothe ruddy-faced man, who glanced at him and nodded, and then continuedthe scrutiny. They reached the fireplace and the officer reached up andtapped the wood over the mantelpiece half-a-dozen times.
"Here," he called, pointing to a spot.
A pikeman came up, placed the end of his pike into the oak, and leanedsuddenly and heavily upon it: the steel crashed in an inch, and stoppedas it met the stonework behind. The officer made a motion, the pike waswithdrawn, and he stood on tip-toe and put his finger into the splinteredpanel. Then he was satisfied and they passed on, still tapping the walls,and went out of the other door, locking it again behind them.
An hour later there were voices and steps again, and a door was unlockedand opened, and Mr. Graves, the Tonbridge magistrate stepped in alone. Hewas a pale scholarly-looking man with large eyes, and a weak mouth onlypartly covered by his beard.
"You can go," he said nervously to the constable, "but remain outside."The young man saluted him and passed out.
The magistrate looked quickly and sideways at Mr. Buxton as he sat andlooked at him.
"I am come to tell you," he said, "that we cannot find the priest." Hehesitated and stopped. "We have found several hiding-holes," he went on,"and they are all empty. I--I hope there is no mistake."
A little thrill ran through the man who sat in the chair; the lethargybegan to clear from his brain, like a morning mist when a breeze rises;he sat a little more upright and gripped the arms of his chair; he saidnothing yet, but he felt power and resource flowing back to his brain,and the pulse in his temples quieted. Why, if the lad had not been takenyet, he must surely be out of the house.
"I trust there is no mistake," said the magistrate again nervously.
"You may well trust so," said the other; "it will be a grievous thing foryou, sir, otherwise."
"Indeed, Mr. Buxton, I think you know I am no bigot. I was sent for byMr. Lackington last night. I could not refuse. It was not my wish----"
"Yet you have issued your warrant, and are here in person to execute it.May I inquire how many of my cupboards you have broken into? And I hopeyour men are satisfied with my plate."
"Indeed, sir," said the magistrate, "there has been nothing of that kind.And as for the cupboards, there were but three----"
Three!--then the lad is out of the house, thought the other. But where?
"And I trust you have not spared to break down my servants' rooms, andthe stables as well as pierce all my panelling."
"There was no need to search the stables, Mr. Buxton; our men were roundthe house before we entered. They have been watching the entrances sinceeight o'clock last night."
Mr. Buxton felt bewildered. His instinct had been right, then, the nightbefore.
"The party was followed from near Wrotham," went on the magistrate. "Thepriest was with them then; and, we suppose, entered the house."
"You suppose!" snapped the other. "What the devil do you mean bysupposing? You have looked everywhere and cannot find him?"
The magistrate shrugged his shoulders deprecatingly, as he stood andstared at the angry man.
"And the roofs?" added Mr. Buxton sneeringly.
"They have been thoroughly searched."
Then there is but one possible theory, he reflected. The lad is in thegarden-house. And what if they search that?
"Then may I ask what you propose to destroy next, Mr. Graves?"
He saw that this tone was having its effect on the magistrate, who wasbut a half-hearted persecutor, with but feeble convictions and will, ashe knew of old.
"I--I entreat you not to speak to me like that, sir," he said. "I havebut done my duty."
Then the other rose from his chair, and his eyes were stern and brightagain and his lips tight.
"Your duty, sir, seems a strange matter, when it leads you to break intoa friend's house, assault him and his servants and his guests, anddestroy his furniture, in search of a supposed priest whom you have nevereven seen. Now, sir, if this matter comes to her Grace's ears, I will notanswer for the consequences; for you know Mistress Corbet, herlady-in-waiting, is one of my guests.--And, speaking of that, where aremy guests?"
"The two ladies, Mr. Buxton, are safe and sound upstairs, I assure you."
The magistrate's voice was trembling.
"Well, sir, I have one condition to offer you. Either you and your menwithdraw within half an hour from my house and grounds, and leave me andmy two guests to ourselves, or else I lay the whole matter, throughMistress Corbet, before her Grace." Mr. Buxton beat his hand once on thetable as he ended, and looked with a contemptuous inquiry at themagistrate.
But the worm writhed up at the heel.
"How can you talk like this, sir," he burst out, "as if you had but twoguests?"
"Two guests? I do not understand you. How should there be more?"
"Then for whom are the four places laid at table?" he answeredindignantly.
Mr. Buxton felt a sudden desperate sinking, and he could not answer for amoment. The magistrate passed his shaking hand over his mouth and beardonce or twice; but the thrust had gone home, and there was no parry orriposte. He followed it up.
"Now, sir, be reasonable. I came in here to make terms. We _know_ thepriest has been here. It is certain beyond all question. All that isuncertain is whether he is here now or escaped. We have searchedthoroughly; we must search again to-morrow; but in the meanwhile, whileyou yourself must be under restraint, your guests shall have what libertythey wish; and you yourself shall have all reasonable comfort and ease.So--so, if we do not find the priest, I trust that you and--and--
MistressCorbet will agree to overlook any rashness on my part--and--and let herGrace remain in ignorance."
Mr. Buxton had been thinking furiously during this little speech. He sawthe mistake he had made in taking the high line, and his wretchedforgetfulness of the fourth place at table. He must make terms, though ittasted bitter.
"Well, Mr. Graves," he said, "I have no wish to be hard upon you. All Iask is to be out of the house when the search is made, and that theladies shall come and go as they please."
The magistrate leapt at the lure like a trout.
"Yes, yes, Mr. Buxton, it shall be as you say. And to what house will youretire?"
Mr. Buxton appeared to reflect; he tapped on the table with a meditativefinger and looked at the ceiling.
"It must not be too far away," he said slowly, "and--and the Rector wouldscarce like to receive me. Perhaps in--or----Why not my summer-house?" headded suddenly.
Mr. Graves' face was irradiated with smiles.
"Thank you, Mr. Buxton, certainly, it shall be as you say. And where isthe summer-house?"
"It is across the garden," said the other carelessly. "I wonder you havenot searched it in your zeal."
"Shall I send a man to prepare it?" asked the magistrate eagerly. "Willyou go there to-night?"
"Well, shall we go across there together now? I give you my parole," headded, smiling, and standing up.
"Indeed,--as you wish. I cannot tell you, sir, how grateful I am. Youhave made my duty almost a pleasure, sir."
They went out together into the hall, Mr. Buxton carrying the key of thegarden-house that he had taken from the drawer of his table; he glancedruefully at the wrecked furniture and floor, and his eyes twinkled for amoment as they rested on the four places at table still undisturbed, andthen met the magistrate's sidelong look. The men were still at the doors,resting now on chairs or leaning against the wall, with their weaponsbeside them; it was weary work this mounting sentry and losing the hunt,and their faces showed it. The two passed out together into the garden,and began to walk up the path that led straight across the avenue towhere the high vanes of the garden-house stood up grotesque and toweringagainst the evening sky, above the black yew-hedges.
All the while they went Mr. Buxton was thinking out his plan. It wasstill incoherent; but, at any rate, it was a step gained to be able tocommunicate with Anthony again; and at least the poor lad should havesome supper. And then he smiled to himself with relief as he saw what animprovement there had been in the situation as it had appeared to him anhour ago. Why, they would search the house again next day; find no one,and retire apologising. His occupancy of the garden-house with themagistrate's full consent would surely secure it from search; and he wasnot so well satisfied with the disguised entrance to the passage at thisend as with that in the cellar.
They reached the door at last. There were three steps going up to it, andMr. Buxton went up them, making a good deal of noise as he did so, toensure Anthony's hearing him should he be above ground. Then, as if withgreat difficulty, he unlocked the door, rattling it, and clicking sharplywith his tongue at its stiffness.
"You see, Mr. Graves." he said, rather loud, as he opened the door alittle, "my prison will not be a narrow one." He threw the door open,gave a glance round, and was satisfied. The targets leaned against onewall, and two rows of flower-pots stood in the corner near where thewindow opened into the lane, but there was no sign of occupation. Mr.Buxton went across, threw the window open and looked out. There was asteel cap three or four feet below, and a pike-head; and at the sound ofthe latch a bearded face looked up.
"I see you have a sentry there," said Mr. Buxton carelessly.
"Ah! that is one of Mr. Maxwell's men."
"Mr. Maxwell's!" said the other, startled. "Is he in this affair too?"
"Yes; have you not heard? He came from Great Keynes this morning. Mr.Lackington sent for him."
Mr. Buxton's face grew dark.
"Ah yes, I see--a pretty revenge."
The magistrate was on the point of asking an explanation, for he felt onthe best of terms again now with his prisoner, when there were footstepsoutside and voices; and there stood four constables, with Nichol, HubertMaxwell and Lackington in furious debate coming up the path behind.
They looked up suddenly, and saw the door open and the magistrate and hisprisoner standing in the opening. The four constables stood waiting forfurther orders while their three chiefs came up.
"Now, now, now!" said Mr. Graves peevishly, "what is all this?"
"We have come to search this house, sir," said Nichol cheerfully.
"See here, sir," said Hubert, "have you given orders for this?"
"Enough, enough," said Lackington coolly. "Search, men."
The pursuivants advanced to the steps. Then Mr. Buxton turned fiercely onthem all.
"See here!" he cried, and his voice rang out across the garden. "Youbring me here, Mr. Graves, promising me a little peace and quietness,after your violent and unwarranted attack upon my house to-day. I havebeen patient and submissive to all suggestions; I leave my entire houseat your disposal; I promise to lay no complaints before her Grace, solong as you will let me retire here till it is over--and now your menpersecute me even here. Have you no mind of your own, sir?" he shouted.
"Really, sir----" began Hubert.
"And as for you, Mr. Maxwell," went on the other fiercely, "are you notcontent with your triumph so far? Cannot you leave me one corner tomyself, or would your revenge be not full enough for you, then?"
"You mistake me, sir," said Hubert, making a violent effort to controlhimself; "I am on your side in this matter."
"That is what I am beginning to think," said Lackington insolently.
"You think!" roared Mr. Buxton; "and who the devil are you?"
"See here, gentlemen," said Mr. Nichol, "what is the dispute? Here is anempty house, Mr. Buxton tells us; and Mr. Maxwell tells us the same.Well, then, let these honest fellows run through the empty house; it willnot take ten minutes, and Mr. Buxton and his friend can take the airmeanwhile. A-God's name, let us not dispute over a trifle."
"Then, a-God's name, let me go to my own house," bellowed Mr. Buxton,"and these gentlemen can have the empty house to disport themselves intill doomsday--or till her Grace looks into the matter"; and he made amotion to run down the steps, but his heart sank. Mr. Graves put out adeprecating hand and touched his arm; and Mr. Buxton very readily turnedat once with a choleric face!
"No, no, no!" cried the magistrate. "These gentlemen are here on mywarrant, and they shall not search the place. Mr. Buxton, I entreat younot to be hasty. Come back, sir."
Mr. Buxton briskly reascended.
"Well, then, Mr. Graves, I entreat you to give your orders, and let yourwill be known. I am getting hungry for my supper, too, sir. It is alreadyan hour past my time."
"Sup in the house, sir," said Mr. Nichol smoothly, "and we shall havedone by then."
Then Hubert blazed up; he took a step forward.
"Now, you fellow," he said to Nichol, "hold your damned tongue. Mr.Graves and I are the magistrates here, and we say that this gentlemanshall sup and sleep here in peace, so you may take your pursuivantselsewhere."
Lackington looked up with a smile.
"No, Mr. Maxwell, I cannot do that. These men are under my orders, and Ishall leave two of them here and send another to keep your fellow companyat the back, We will not disturb Mr. Buxton further to-night; butto-morrow we shall see."
Mr. Buxton paid no sort of further attention to him, but turned to themagistrates.
"Well, gentlemen, what is your decision?"
"You shall sleep here in peace, sir," said Mr. Graves resolutely. "I canpromise nothing for to-morrow."
"Then will you kindly allow one of my men to bring me supper and a couchof some kind, and I shall be obliged if the ladies may sup with me."
"That they shall," assented Mr. Graves. "Mr. Maxwell, will you escortthem here?"
Hubert, who was turning away, nod
ded and disappeared round the yew-hedge.Lackington, who had been talking in an undertone to the pursuivants, nowwent up another alley with one of them and Mr. Nichol, and disappearedtoo in the gathering gloom of the garden. The other two pursuivantsseparated and each moved a few steps off and remained just out of sight.Plainly they were to remain on guard. Mr. Buxton and the magistrate satdown on a couple of garden-chairs.
"That is an obstinate fellow, sir," said Mr. Graves.
"They are certainly both of them very offensive fellows, sir. I wasastonished at your indulgence towards them."
The magistrate was charmed by this view of the case, and remained talkingwith Mr. Buxton until footsteps again were heard, and the two ladiesappeared, with Hubert with them, and a couple of men carrying each a trayand the other necessaries he had asked for.
Mr. Buxton and the magistrate rose to meet the ladies and bowed.
"I cannot tell you," began their host elaborately, "what distress allthis affair has given me. I trust you will forgive any inconvenience youmay have suffered."
Both Isabel and Mary looked white and strained, but they respondedgallantly; and as the table was being prepared the four talked almost asif there were no bitter suspense at three of their hearts at least. Mr.Graves was nervous and uneasy, but did his utmost to propitiate Mary. Atlast he was on the point of withdrawing, when Mr. Buxton entreated him tosup with them.
"I must not," he said; "I am responsible for your property, Mr. Buxton."
"Then I understand that these ladies may come and go as they please?" heasked carelessly.
"Certainly, sir."
"Then may I ask too the favour that you will place one of your own men atthe door who can conduct them to the house when they wish to go, and whocan remain and protect me too from any disturbance from either of the twoofficious persons who were here just now?"
Mr. Graves, delighted at this restored confidence, promised to do so, andtook an elaborate leave; and the three sat down to supper; the door wasleft open, and they could see through it the garden, over which veilafter veil of darkness was beginning to fall. The servants had lightedtwo tapers, and the inside of the great room with its queer furniture oftargets and flower-pots was plainly visible to any walking outside. Onceor twice the figure of a man crossed the strip of light that lay acrossthe gravel.
It was a strange supper. They said innocent things to one another in atone loud enough for any to hear who cared to be listening, about theannoyance of it all, the useless damage that had been done, the warmth ofthe summer night, and the like, and spoke in low soundless sentences ofwhat was in all their hearts.
"That red-faced fellow," said Mary, "would be the better of some manners.(He is in the passage below, I suppose.)"
"It is scarce an ennobling life--that of a manhunter," said Mr. Buxton.("Yes. I am sure of it.")
"They have broken your little cupboard, I fear." said Mary again. ("Tellme your plan, if you have one.")
And so step by step a plan was built up. It had been maturing in Mr.Buxton's mind gradually after he had learnt the ladies might sup withhim; and little by little he conveyed it to them. He managed to writedown the outline of it as he sat at table, and then passed it to each toread, and commented on it and answered their questions about it, all inthe same noiseless undertone, with his lips indeed scarcely moving. Therewere many additions and alterations made in it as the two ladies workedupon it too, but by the time supper was over it was tolerably complete.It seemed, indeed, almost desperate, but the case was desperate. It wascertain that the garden-house would be searched next day; Lackington'ssuspicions were plainly roused, and it was too much to hope thatsearchers who had found three hiding-places in one afternoon would failto find a fourth. It appeared then that it was this plan or none.
They supped slowly, in order to give time to think out and work out thescheme, and to foresee any difficulties beyond those they had alreadycounted on; and it was fully half-past nine before the two ladies rose.Their host went with them to the door, called up Mr. Graves' man, andwatched them pass down the path out of sight. He stood a minute or twolonger looking across towards the house at the dusky shapes in the gardenand the strip of gravel, grass, and yew that was illuminated from hisopen door. Then he spoke to the men that he knew were just out of sight.
"I am going to bed presently. Kindly do not disturb me." There was noanswer; and he closed the two high doors and bolted them securely.
He dared not yet do what he wished, for fear of arousing suspicion, so hewent to the other window and looked out into the lane. He could just makeout the glimmer of steel on the opposite bank.
"Good-night, my man," he called out cheerfully.
Again there was no answer. There was something sinister in these watchingpresences that would not speak, and his heart sank a little as he put-tothe window without closing it. He went next to the pile of rugs andpillows that his men had brought across, and arranged them in the corner,just clear of the trap-door. Then he knelt and said his evening prayers,and here at least was no acting. Then he rose again and took off hisdoublet and ruff and shoes so that he was dressed only in a shirt, trunksand hose. Then he went across to the supper-table, where the tapers stillburned, and blew them out, leaving the room in complete darkness. Then hewent back to his bed, and sat and listened.
Up to this point he had been aware that probably at least one pair ofeyes had been watching him; for, although the windows were of bottle-endglass, yet it was exceedingly likely that there would be some clear glassin them; and, with the tapers burning inside, his movements would allhave been visible to either of Lackington's men who cared to put his eyeto the window. But now he was invisible. Yet, as he thought of it, heslipped on his doublet again to hide the possible glimmer of his whiteshirt. There was the silence of the summer night about him--the silenceonly emphasised by its faint sounds. The house was quiet across thegarden, though once or twice he thought he heard a horse stamp. Oncethere came a little stifled cough from outside his window; there was thesilky rustle of the faint breeze in the trees outside; and now and againcame the snoring of a young owl in the ivy somewhere overhead.
He counted five hundred deliberately, to compel himself to wait; andmeanwhile his sub-conscious self laboured at the scheme. Then he glancedthis way and that with wide eyes; his ears sang with intentness oflistening. Then, very softly he shifted his position, and found with hisfingers the ring that lifted the trap-door above the stairs.
There was no concealment about this, and without any difficulty he liftedthe door with his right hand and leaned it against the wall; then helooked round again and listened. From below came up the damp earthybreath of the basement, and he heard a rat scamper suddenly to shelter.Then he lifted his feet from the rugs and dropped them noiselessly on thestairs, and supporting himself by his hands on the floor went down a stepor two. Then a stair creaked under his weight; and he stopped in anagony, hearing only the mad throbbing in his own ears. But all was silentoutside. And so step by step he descended into the cool darkness. Hehesitated as to whether he should close the trap-door or not, there was arisk either way; but he decided to do so, as he would be obliged to makesome noise in opening the secret doors and communicating with Anthony. Atlast his feet touched the earth floor, and he turned as he sat andcounted the steps--the fourth, the fifth, and tapped upon it. There wasno answer; he put his lips to it and whispered sharply:
"Anthony, Anthony, dear lad."
Still there was no answer. Then he lifted the lid, and managed to holdthe woodwork below, as he knelt on the third step, so that it descendednoiselessly. He put out his other hand and felt the boards. Anthony hadretired into the passage then, he told himself, as he found the spaceempty. He climbed into the hole, pushed himself along and counted thebricks--the fourth of the fourth--pressed it, and pushed at the door; andit was fast.
For the first time a horrible spasm of terror seized him. Had heforgotten? or was it all a mistake, and Anthony not there? He turned inhis place, put his shoulders again
st the door and his feet against thewoodwork of the stairs, and pushed steadily; there were one or two loudcreaks, and the door began to yield. Then he knew Anthony was there; arush of relief came into his heart--and he turned and whispered again.
"Anthony, dear lad, Anthony, open quickly; it is I."
The brickwork slid back and a hand touched his face out of the pitchdarkness of the tunnel.
"Who is it? Is it you?" came a whisper.
"It is I, yes. Thank God you are here. I feared----"
"How could I tell?" came the whisper again. "But what is the news? Areyou escaped?"
"No, I am a prisoner, and on parole. But there is no time for that. Youmust escape--we have a plan--but there is not much time."
"Why should I not remain here?"
"They will search to-morrow--and--and this end of the tunnel is not sowell concealed as the other. They would find you. They suspect you arehere, and there are guards round this place."
There was a movement in the dark.
"Then why think----" began the whisper.
"No, no, we have a plan. Mary and Isabel approve. Listen carefully. Thereis but one guard at the back here, in the lane. Mary has leave to comeand go now as she pleases--they are afraid of her; she will leave thehouse in a few minutes now to ride to East Maskells, with two grooms anda maid behind one of them. She will ride her own horse. When she haspassed the inn she will bid the groom who has the maid to wait for her,while she rides down the lane with the other, Robert, to speak to methrough the window. The pursuivant, we suppose, will not forbid that, ashe knows they have supped with me just now. As we talk, Robert will watchhis chance and spring on the pursuivant. As soon as the struggle beginsyou will drop from the window; it is but eight feet; and help him tosecure the man and gag him. However much din they make the others cannotreach the man in time to help, for they will have to come round from thehouse, and you will have mounted Robert's horse; and you and Marytogether will gallop down the lane into the road, and then where youwill. We advise East Maskells. I do not suppose there will be anypursuit. They will have no horses ready. Do you understand it?"
There was silence a moment; Mr. Buxton could hear Anthony breathing inthe darkness.
"I do not like it," came the whisper at last; "it seems desperate. Ahundred things may happen. And what of Isabel and you?"
"Dear friend; I know it is desperate, but not so desperate as yourremaining here would be for us all."
Again there was silence.
"What of Robert? How will he escape?"
"If you escape they will have nothing against Robert; for they can provenothing as to your priesthood. But if they catch you here--and theycertainly will, if you remain here--they will probably hang him, for hefought for you gallantly in the house. And he too will have time to run.He can run through the door into the meadows. But they will not care forhim if they know you are off."
Again silence.
"Well?" whispered Mr. Buxton.
"Do you wish it?"
"I think it is the only hope."
"Then I will do it."
"Thank God! And now you must come up with me. Put off your shoes."
"I have none."
"Then follow, and do not make a sound."
* * * *
Very cautiously Mr. Buxton extricated himself; for he had been lying onhis side while he whispered to Anthony; and presently was crouched on thestairs above, as he heard the stirrings of his friend in the dark belowhim. There came the click of the brickwork door; then slow shufflings;once a thump on the hollow boards that made his heart leap; then afterwhat seemed an interminable while, came the sound of latching the fifthstair into its place; and he felt his foot grasped. Then he turned andascended slowly on hands and knees, feeling now and again for thetrap-door over him--touched it--raised it, and crawled out on to therugs. The room seemed to him comparatively light after the heavy darknessof the basement, and passage below, and he could make out thesupper-table and the outline of the targets on the opposite wall. Then hesaw a head follow him; then shoulders and body; and Anthony crept out andsat on the rugs beside him. Their hands met in a trembling grip.
"Supper, dear lad?" whispered Mr. Buxton, with his mouth to the other'sear.
"Yes, I am hungry," came the faintest whisper back.
Mr. Buxton rose and went on tip-toe to the table, took off some food anda glass of wine that he had left purposely filled and came back withthem.
There the two friends sat; Mr. Buxton could just hear the movement ofAnthony's mouth as he ate. The four windows glimmered palely before them,and once or twice the tall doors rattled faintly as the breeze stirredthem.
Then suddenly came a sound that made Anthony's hand pause on the way tohis mouth; Mr. Buxton drew a sharp breath; it was the noise of three orfour horses on the road beyond the church. Then they both stood upwithout a word, and Mr. Buxton went noiselessly across to the window thatlooked on to the lane and remained there, listening. The horses were nowpassing down the street, and the noise of their hoofs grew fainter behindthe houses.
Anthony saw his friend in the twilight beckon, and he went across andstood by him. Suddenly the hoofs sounded loud and near; and they heardthe pursuivant below stand up from the bank opposite. Then Mary's voicecame distinct and cheerful.
"How dark it is!"
The horses were coming down the lane.