Captain McNab, though unflinching and uncompromising in the performance of duty, however painful or harsh it might be, was a gentleman, and did not address Jane Gray with that insolent familiarity which had characterised Sir James Turner's questioning.
"Sorry to disturb you, mistress," he said courteously enough. "I am astonished to find you here; we were credibly informed that all the inmates of the house had gone to a field-preaching about a mile distant, and that we should find the coast clear."
"Your informer might be more zealous than trustworthy, sir," Jane Gray made answer quickly, though her heart grew sick with apprehension. Doubtless Martha Miller had been the informant, and how many other secrets had she discovered and divulged?
"It was a wench, one of the serving-maids here, I believe," answered the Captain candidly. "We are in search of four desperate Whigs, two ministers and two farmers; but I think we will lay hands upon them here. Come, tell me, my sweet dame, how can so comely a gentlewoman as you countenance such disreputable rebellion?"
"What you term rebellion, sir, may convey another meaning to my mind," answered Jane Gray. "Pray, would you call it rebellion to desire to exercise liberty in matters pertaining to conscience?"
"Faith, you put it glibly," retorted the Captain, with a smile. "Many of my fellow officers would give but a rough denial to such rebellious words, but I would scorn to make war on women. Well, have you anything to drink in the house? I intended to force an entrance and ransack the cupboards, but it would have a sweeter relish if poured out by those fair hands."
"If you will be good enough to step into the inner room, sir, I will set what I have before you," answered Jane courteously.
"Thanks. I will step out first and see what speed they are making with their search. We have been well guided to the cunning corner which has sheltered the renegades so long, and the parson himself is with us to assist us in our work," said the Captain carelessly. "Faith, madam, I do not wonder that the folk get sick of his snivelling ministrations. He is a mean, despicable dog, whom it would do me good to thrash."
So saying, the Captain sauntered out to the yard again, and Jane Gray, stepping into a little closet, which had a window to the back, saw him enter the barn. Folding her hands, her white lips moved in an agony of prayer, for without a doubt the secret of the chaff hole was a secret no longer, and unless warned by the noise overhead, the fugitives could not possibly escape.
Several minutes passed, and at length Jane saw McLean, the curate, emerge from the barn with a very disgusted and chagrined expression on his ill-favoured face. He was followed shortly by Captain McNab, who, with his lieutenant, came slowly towards the house.