“Only five or six. A grand officer and some common men. They were here yesternight and before that.”
“Are there any men in the inn save your worthy, busy father and his groom?”
“No others. But they are keeping watch of the inn gate and the stairs to the upper story.”
Strangwayes drained off the last of the wine, then rose. “Tell me one thing,” he asked, “is there any way from the upper floor into the stable?”
“Through the loft above the kitchen.”
“It may chance your father and his man will be here in the kitchen the next hour; then, if you love me, lass, keep up a great clattering of your pans. Here, Hugh, take a brace of candles and off with you to bed.”
Hugh went slowly into the common room, where sat Emry, to all appearances wrapped in pious meditations, and passed firmly up the stairs. How the little flames of the candles flickered, he observed, and how light and eager he felt; yet there was a kind of foolish trembling in his knees.
Scarcely within the chamber Strangwayes rejoined him. “Are you satisfied with this brave adventure, my man?” was his greeting.
Hugh nodded. “I know you’ll bring us through safe, Dick.”
“Humph! To do that we need but to slip out at a window of the inn. I’ve a better plan, Hugh, if you’ll come in with me. We cannot bear off our noble white steed and our fleet gray, for to ride hence is the surest means to fall foul of these Roundheads. Then say we lurk here and, turn and turn about, possess ourselves of two of their horses.”