report, and the two consulted together for a moment. Then both went
round to the orchard, stole through a gap in the straggling hedge, and
came over the grass to the rear of the house. A light shone through
the unshuttered window.

"Ah!" exclaimed Dan, "this looks more like the home of honest people.
Yon thief in front is bolted and barred. I warrant me the widow hath
not pulled in her latch-string. We must open and enter. To knock
would be to give warning to our man, who hath ears that gather sound
quicker than doth a rabbit's."

"How will the widow take our incoming?" asked Nick. "We be two
strangers, and night hath fallen. Should she cry out, we are undone;
for the fishers would come upon us, and maybe lay us low without a
chance to explain our errand. Thy monk-man, too, is a guest of the
village. Should he sound an alarm, 'twould go hard with us if the
neighbours took us for thieves and him for an honest man."

Dan paused. "Shrewdly spoken, comrade. But there is no time to go
round the place and prove that we be honest Protestants and good
sailors, whilst the little man is a thieving Papist and murderous
traitor. We should cause clamour enough to give him warning and time
for escape. We will get within. Thou wilt stay with the widow, and
keep her from doing us a mischief. I will see to my man alone."

"If thou shouldst want help?"

"I will cry out for it quickly enough."

As Dan predicted, the latch-string still hung out. A gentle pull, and
the well-used door swung open. The widow was in her kitchen, raking
together the red embers on the hearth preparatory to going to bed. The
noise of her scraping was sufficient to cover up the sounds at the
door, and Dan was at her side, his fingers on her lips, ere she was
aware of his presence.

"Sh!" he whispered in warning; "not a sound, good mother. We are
friends, but thou art in danger; thy life depends on thy silence."

The poor woman paled, and shook in every limb. Dan whispered
reassuringly, and removed his hand from her mouth.

"God 'a mercy!" she gasped.

Nick brought forward a stool and gently placed her upon it.

"Have no fear," he said; "I will stay with thee."

"Who are ye?"

"Friends and protectors, mother; honest sons of Devon, who have
discovered a deadly plot. Lean thou on my shoulder."

Nick's whispers were soothing, his face was honest; the widow's brain
was bewildered. She believed him, and clung to him in white terror.