er arms filled with flowers appeared at her side. "Here
are the purple flowers," she said. "Here is farewell-summer for me and a
passion-flower for you." She threw the blooms upon the ground, and
sitting down at her mistress's feet, began to weave them into garlands.
Presently she took up the passion-flower. "This grew beside the tobacco
house, close to the wall. Margery saw it, and ran to pluck it. The door
of the tobacco house was closed, but above the passion-flower was a
great crack between the logs." She began to laugh. "Margery heard a
strange thing, while she was plucking the passion-flower. Shall she tell
it to you?"

"If you like, Margery," said Patricia indifferently.

Margery leaned forward, and laid a cold, thin hand upon her mistress'
arm.

"There were seven men in the tobacco house. One said, 'When the
Malignants are put down, what then?' and another answered, 'Surely we
will possess their lands and their houses, their silver and their gold,
for is it not written, "The Lord hath given them a spoil unto their
servants."' Then the first said, 'Shall we not kill the Malignant,
Verney?' Margery heard no more. She came away."

Patricia rose to her feet, pale, with brilliant eyes.

"You heard no more?"

"No."

"Margery, show me the place where you listened."

Margery took up her staff, and led the way to the outskirts of the wood.
"There," she said, pointing with her staff. "There, where the elder
grows."

Patricia laid her hand on the mad woman's shoulder. "Listen to me,
Margery," she said in a low, distinct voice. "Listen very carefully. Go
quickly to the great house, and to my father, or to Woodson, or to Sir
Charles Carew give the message I am about to give you. Do you
understand, Margery?"

Margery nodding emphatically, Patricia gave the message, and watched her
flit away through the gloom of the cedars into the sunlight beyond; then
turned and went swiftly and noiselessly across the strip of field to the
tall, dark, windowless tobacco house. As she neared it, there came to
her a low and undistinguishable murmur of voices which rose into
distinctness as she entered the clump of alders.

Within the tobacco house were assembled the Muggletonian, the man
branded upon the forehead, the youth with the hectic cheek (who acted as
Secretary to the Surveyor-General), two newly purchased servants of
Colonel Verney, Trail and Godfrey Landless. In the uncertain light which
streamed from above through ren