ry--seem no light troubles to me. We came at
length to a house which, as far as we could judge in the darkness,
seemed to be of rather greater pretensions than its fellows. Here, our
guide stopped, and whispered to us to mount some steps to a raised
wooden gallery, which intervened between the lane and the doorway. On
this, beside the door, a couple of unglazed windows looked forth. The
wooden lattice which covered one was sufficiently open to allow us to
see a large bare crazy room, lighted by a couple of rushlights.
Directing us to place ourselves close to this window, the innkeeper
knocked at the door in a peculiar fashion, entered, and appeared at once
in the lighted room, of which we had a view. Gazing through the window
we were surprised to find that the only person within save Andrew, was a
young woman, who, crouching over a smouldering fire, was crooning a
lullaby while she attended to a large black pot.

"Good evening, mistress!" the innkeeper said, advancing to the fire. He
masked well his nervousness: nevertheless, it was patent to us.

"Good evening, Master Andrew," she replied, looking up and nodding, but
showing no sign of surprise at his appearance. "Martin is away, but he
may return at any moment."

"To-night?"

"Yes."

"Is he still of the same mind?"

"Quite."

"Ah! That is so, is it. And what of Sully?" he continued, somewhat
hoarsely. "Is he to die also?"

"They have decided that he must," the girl answered gloomily.

On that, it may be believed that I listened; while the King by a nudge
in my side, seemed to rally me on the destiny so coolly arranged for me.
"Martin," the girl continued, before the chill sensation had ceased to
run down my back, "Martin says it is no good killing the other, unless
he goes too--they have worked so long together. But it vexes me sadly,
Master Andrew," she added, with a certain break in her voice. "Sadly it
vexes me. I could not sleep last night for thinking of it, and the risk
Martin runs. And I shall sleep less--when it is done."

"Pooh! pooh!" said that rascally innkeeper, and stirred the fire. "Think
less about it. Things will grow worse and worse, if they are let live.
The King has done harm enough already. And he grows old besides. And to
put off a step of this kind is dangerous. If a word got about--'tis
ruin."

"That is true!" the girl answered, gazing drearily at the pot. "And no
doubt the sooner the King is put out of the way the better. I do not