the rifts of hurrying clouds. The lady rode in silence, absorbed
in the thought of the task before them, the danger and the shame.

Nigel chatted in a low tone with the priest. From him he learned more of
the evil name of this man whom they followed. His house at Shalford was
a den of profligacy and vice. No woman could cross that threshold and
depart unstained. In some strange fashion, inexplicable and yet common,
the man, with all his evil soul and his twisted body, had yet some
strange fascination for women, some mastery over them which compelled
them to his will. Again and again he had brought ruin to a household,
again and again his adroit tongue and his cunning wit had in some
fashion saved him from the punishment of his deeds. His family was great
in the county, and his kinsmen held favor with the King, so that his
neighbors feared to push things too far against him. Such was the man,
malignant and ravenous, who had stooped like some foul night-hawk and
borne away to his evil nest the golden beauty of Cosford. Nigel said
little as he listened, but he raised his hunting-dagger to his tightened
lips, and thrice he kissed the cross of its handle.

They had passed over the moors and through the village of Milford and
the little township of Godalming, until their path turned southward over
the Pease marsh and crossed the meadows of Shalford. There on the dark
hillside glowed the red points of light which marked the windows of the
house which they sought. A somber arched avenue of oak-trees led up to
it, and then they were in the moon-silvered clearing in front.

From the shadow of the arched door there sprang two rough serving-men,
bearded and gruff, great cudgels in their hands, to ask them who they
were and what their errand. The Lady Mary had slipped from her horse and
was advancing to the door, but they rudely barred her way.

"Nay, nay, our master needs no more!" cried one, with a hoarse laugh.
"Stand back, mistress, whoever you be! The house is shut, and our lord
sees no guests to-night."

"Fellow," said Nigel, speaking low and clear, "stand back from us! Our
errand is with your master."

"Bethink you, my children," cried the old priest, "would it not be best
perchance, that I go in to him and see whether the voice of the Church
may not soften this hard heart? I fear bloodshed if you enter."

"Nay, father, I pray you to stay here for the nonce," said Nigel. "And
you, Mary, do you bide with the good priest,