looking out, she saw a
dark figure standing in the shadow of the great yew-tree.

'Who is there?' she cried softly.

''Tis I, Mistress,' said the figure, moving close up to the window. It
was Mark Field, Antony's own man and foster-brother.

'What brings you here, Mark? Has aught befallen Antony?' she asked in
haste.

'Nay, the young master is well and safe in London, Mistress Millicent,
but he bade me carry this note to you and to deliver it into none other
hands but yours. It is of importance, for he bade me ride like the wind
and spare not my steed, and I was to tell no man I was here, or wait for
an answer, but just give it to thee, get a fresh nag from the stable and
hasten back to London, so that no man might mark my absence; so
good-night, Mistress,' and the honest fellow handed up the paper to
Millicent and vanished in the darkness.

She opened it and read: 'Dearest,--Rumours have got abroad that Sir
Denvil de Foulkes and his son are harbouring near Basset Court. Our
father knows nought of the matter, and is anxious that troopers be sent
to watch the district. They will live at the Court and doubtless search
the house. Set your wits to work, for my honour is at stake. I would
fain have those two escape. The younger had better depart; his
appearance with the King's force would remove suspicion. For the other
you must do your best.--ANTONY.'

Millicent sat still for a long time. The danger was great, but her
courage rose to meet it. If she could prevent it, no harm would come to
the helpless old man in the secret room; neither would the disgrace of
having harboured an enemy fall on her father. No one, so far as she
knew, knew aught of the hidden room. If the soldiers could be kept from
discovering that, all might be well. There seemed only one way to
prevent them doing so. If she were ill and in bed while they were in the
house, they would not search her room too narrowly.

But her conscience told her that she must really be ill, not pretend;
and she gave a shiver as she thought of a mixture of mustard-and-water
which Aunt Deborah had administered to Marjorie once when she mistook
laburnum-pods for peas. She remembered how ill the child was afterwards,
and she thought if she could make herself as ill as that, there would be
no deceit in saying she could not get up.

Having come to this decision she rose, and tapping on the panel, she was
soon talking over the situation with Ralph and his father, whose wou