himself to his hostess, and going to the back-door, he there
found Martha Bates, wife of the Bates who was his fellow--conspirator
and Catesby's servant.

"Pray you, Sir," said Martha with a bob of deprecation mingled with
deference, "to come into the fields by the town's end, where is one
would speak quickly with you."

"Who is it?"

Martha glanced round, as if afraid of the chestnuts overhearing her.

"Well, Sir, to tell truth, 'tis Mr Catesby; but I pray you, let not my
Lady Anne know of his being here."

Robert Winter took his way to the place appointed, and found a group of
some twelve horsemen awaiting him.

"Good even! Well, what news?"

"The worst could be. Mr Fawkes is taken, and the whole plot
discovered."

"Ay, you have heard it, then? Here are come but now my cousins Wright,
with Mr Percy and Mr Rookwood, bringing the same news. What now do
we?"

"What say you?"

"Well, it seems to me best that each should submit himself."

"We've not yet come to that. Bid them every one follow me to Dunchurch
without loss of time. Only--mind you let not my mother know of my being
here."

"To Dunchurch--what, afore supper? We were but just come into the
dining-chamber, and I smell somewhat uncommon good."

"You may tarry for jugged hare," said Catesby contemptuously. "I shall
ride quickly to Dunchurch, and there consult."

"Well--if you must, have with you."

"Bring some pies in your pocket, Robin, and then you'll not fall to
cannibalism on the way," called Catesby after him. "And--hark! ask if
any wist the road to Dunchurch, for I know it not."

The question was put in vain to all the party. It appeared, when they
came up with Catesby, that nobody knew the road to Dunchurch.
Guide-posts were a mystery of the future.

"We must needs have a guide," said Catesby; "but I am fain at this
moment not to show myself in Ashby. Robin, wilt thou win us one? Go
thou to Leeson, the smith, at the entering in of the village as thou
comest from Ravensthorpe--"

"Ay, I know."

"Ask him if he will guide us to Dunchurch, and he shall be well paid for
it. He is safe, being a Catholic. We will follow anon."

Bennet Leeson, the blacksmith at Ashby Saint Ledgers, had given up work
for the day, and having gone through some extensive ablutions and the
subsequent supper, now stood at his cottage door, looking out on the
green and taking his rest. He was not enjoying a pipe, for that was as
yet a vice of the