cred Majesty, whom you have in keeping."

"Never an one, my master, I do ensure you," answered Humphrey, as
lightly as if he spoke the truth: and he cut a large slice from the loaf
standing on the table. "Pray you, sit down and break your fast; you are
full welcome, as I am sure my good sister should tell you were she at
home. After that ye have eaten, ye shall search the house an' ye
will.--See here, Jack Cook! make a good toast for these worthy masters;
and thou, David Butler, go up to my chamber for my cup--thou shalt find
it on the window-ledge, I think."

Outside, Mr Hazelwood was giving directions for the search, hints being
constantly supplied to him by the cook as to what transpired within.
The butler, David Bate, went to fetch his master's cup, and of course
found the room empty. As he came to the foot of the back-stair, Master
Humphrey met him.

"Good David, help me to the key of the back-door into the cellar," he
said in a hurried whisper. "As ever thou wilt do anything for me, stick
now to me, and help save my life."

"Sir, I have not the key," answered the astonished butler. "The brewer
hath it."

The brewer was hastily summoned, delivered the key, and was as hurriedly
dismissed. Then Humphrey ran up to his closet, brought down his
concealed guests, and conducted them through the buttery towards the
cellar. The butler slipped away from them, and told the officers. The
situation was now desperate. Inside the house the officers were
pursuing them; outside, a crowd, in league with the authorities, was
shouting itself hoarse in execration of them. The wretched men made one
last frantic dash around the house, and Robert Winter and Stephen
Littleton were arrested in the stable-yard, and prevented from reaching
the neighbouring wood.

But what had become of Red Humphrey? The instant he saw the game was
up, he hurriedly mounted his horse, and eluded his pursuers. But he was
not to escape much longer. The searching party which Poynter had led to
the barn, disappointed there, scoured the neighbourhood; and at
Prestwood the fugitive was taken, and committed to safe custody in
Stafford Gaol. Even after they were secured, it was no easy matter to
carry the other prisoners to Worcester. While they were "refreshing
themselves" in an alehouse at Hagley--probably the tavern kept by Mrs
Fynwood--a tumult arose among the people outside which almost led to
their rescue; and a few miles from Hagley, Sir Th