backs to their oars and
glided swiftly down stream toward Greenwich.

As for Rebecca--comprehending nothing of the cause of this commotion at
first--she stood with open mouth, immovable as a statue, watching the
departure of her escort until the flame reached her fingers. Then, with
a little shriek of pain, she flicked the burnt wood into the river.

"Well, if I ever!" she exclaimed. "I'm blest ef I don't b'lieve those
ninnies was scared at a match!"

Shaking her head, she broke a second match from her card, struck it, and
when it burned clear, stooped to seek her umbrella. It was lying between
two beams almost at her feet, and she grasped it thankfully just as her
light was blown out by the breeze.

Then, with groping feet, she made her way carefully toward the inshore
end of the wharf, and soon found herself in the streets of Southwark,
between London Bridge and the pillory. From this point she knew her way
to the grove where the Panchronicon had landed, and thither she now
turned a resolute face, walking as swiftly as she dared by the light of
the now unobscured moon.

"If Copernicus Droop ketches up with me," she muttered, "I'll make him
stop ef I hev to poke my umbrella in his spokes."

CHAPTER XVI

HOW SIR GUY KEPT HIS TRYST

For one hour before sunset of that same day Phoebe had been patiently
waiting alone behind the east wall of the inn garden. As she had
expected, her step-mother had accompanied her father to London that
afternoon, and she found herself free for the time of their
watchfulness. She did not know that this apparent carelessness was based
upon knowledge of another surveillance more strict and secret, and
therefore more effective than their own.

The shadow of the wall within which she was standing lengthened more and
more rapidly, until, as the sun touched the western horizon, the whole
countryside to the east was obscured.

Phoebe moved out into the middle of the road which ran parallel to the
garden wall and looked longingly toward the north. A few rods away, the
road curved to the right between apple-trees whose blossoms gleamed more
pink with the touch of the setting sun.

"Nothing--no one yet!" she murmured. "Oh, Guy, if not for love, could
you not haste for life!"

As though in answer to her exclamation, there came to her ears a faint
tapping of horses' hoofs, and a few moments later three horsemen turned
the corner and bore down upon her.

One glance was enough to s