"I believe he is!" cried the Parson.
It was the boy's swift mind that first leapt to the Gentleman's plan.
"No, sir!" he screamed. "Don't you see?—He'll bring the waggon alongside at a gallop, jam it against the wall, and then——"
And then! the Parson saw it in a flash:—axemen at work on the door beneath the wain, and stormers through the dormer-window over the top.
"By God, you've got it!"
It must be stopped at all costs.
But how?
The wain was coming at the cottage from the flank. A shot from the left shoulder at an impossible angle at a galloping target—was that their only hope?
The Parson glanced wildly round.
The thunder of the wain and the singing voice of the coachman was in his ears.