e slew, while
round the corner of the tomb Jeffrey Stokes gallops away.

While Cicely stared back at this desolate grave, muttering a prayer for
the departed, Thomas Bolle heard something which caused him to prick his
ears.

"What is it?" asked Jacob Smith, who saw the change in his face.

"Horses galloping--many horses, master," he answered; "yes, and riders
on them. Listen."

They did so, and now they also heard the thud of horse's hoofs and the
shouts of men.

"Quick, quick," said Bolle, "follow me. I know where we may hide," and
he led them off to a dense thicket of thorn and beech scrub which grew
about two hundred yards away under a group of oaks at a place where four
tracks crossed. Owing to the beech leaves, which, when the trees are
young, as every gardener knows, cling to the twigs through autumn and
winter, this place was very close, and hid them completely.

Scarcely had they taken up their stand there, when, in the red light
of the sunset, they saw a strange sight. Along, not that road they had
followed, but another, which led round the farther side of King's Grave
Mount, now seen and now hidden by the forest trees, a tall man in armour
mounted on a grey horse, accompanied by another man in a leathern jerkin
mounted on a black horse, galloped towards them, whilst, at a distance
of not more than a hundred yards behind them, appeared a motley mob of
pursuers.

"Escaped prisoners being run down," muttered Bolle, but Cicely took no
heed. There was something about the appearance of the rider of the grey
horse that seemed to draw her heart out of her.

She leaned forward on her beast's neck, staring with all her eyes. Now
the two men were almost opposite the thicket, and the man in mail turned
his face to his companion and called cheerily--

"We gain! We'll slip them yet, Jeffrey."

Cicely saw the face.

"Christopher!" she cried; "_Christopher!_"

Another moment and they had swept past, but Christopher--for it was
he--had caught the sound of that remembered voice. With eyes made quick
by love and fear she saw him pulling on his rein. She heard him shout
to Jeffrey, and Jeffrey shout back to him in tones of remonstrance.
They halted confusedly in the open space beyond. He tried to turn, then
perceived his pursuers drawing nearer, and, when they were already at
his heels, with an exclamation, pulled round again to gallop away. Too
late! Up the slope they sped for another hundred yards or so. Now they