"Nay, it is my man Dick, calling like a peewit. That is his sign when
trouble is afoot. Ah, here he comes."

As he spoke a tall, gaunt man appeared, advancing towards them. His
gait was a shambling trot that seemed slow, although, in truth, he was
covering the ground with extraordinary swiftness. Moreover, he moved so
silently that even on the frost-held soil his step could not be heard,
and so carefully that not a reed stirred as he threaded in and out among
their clumps like an otter, his head crouched down and his long bow
pointed before him as though it were a spear. Half a minute more, and he
was before them--a very strange man to see. His years were not so many,
thirty perhaps, and yet his face looked quite old because of its lack
of colouring, its thinness, and the hard lines that marked where
the muscles ran down to the tight, straight mouth and up to the big
forehead, over which hung hair so light that at a little distance he
seemed ashen-grey. Only in this cold, rocky face, set very far apart,
were two pale-blue eyes, which just now, when he chose to lift their
lids that generally kept near together, as though he were half asleep,
were full of fire and quick cunning.

Reaching the pair, this strange fellow dropped to his knee and raised
his cap to Eve, the great lady of the Claverings--Red Eve, as they
called her through that country-side. Then he spoke, in a low, husky
voice:

"They're coming, master! You and your mistress must to earth unless you
mean to face them in the open," and the pale eyes glittered as he tapped
his great black bow.

"Who are coming, Dick? Be plain, man!"

"Sir John Clavering, my lady's father; young John, my lady's brother;
the fine French lord who wears a white swan for a crest; three of the
nights, his companions; and six--no seven--men-at-arms. Also from the
other side of the grieve, Thomas of Kessland, and with him his marsh men
and verderers."

"And what are they coming for?" he asked again. "Have they hounds, and
hawk on wrist?"

"Nay, but they have swords and knife on thigh," and he let his pale eyes
fall on Eve.

"Oh, have done!" she broke in. "They come to take me, and I'll not be
taken! They come to kill you, and I'll not see you slain and live. I had
words with my father this morning about the Frenchman and, I fear, let
out the truth. He told me then that ere the Dunwich roses bloomed again
she who loved you would have naught but bones to kiss. Dick, you know
the