They retraced their steps and went boldly round the inn to the kitchen door. There were lights in the stable and men talking loudly of one thing and another. From the kitchen door, which stood ajar, came the rattle of dishes and the smell of food and a great bawling and clamouring as the mistress directed and the maids ran.
With a jaunty air and an ingratiating smile, Martin boldly stepped to the door. He knocked and waited but no one heeded his summons. A scowl replaced his smile and he knocked with redoubled vigour. The sound rang out clearly in the inn yard. Several men came to the door of the stable to see what was the matter and the clamour in the kitchen ceased. Steps approached, a firm hand threw wide the door, and a woman cried with harsh voice, "Well, then, what'll you have, who come to the back when honest folk go to the front?"
There was for a moment a disagreeable cast in Martin's eyes, but his facile mouth resumed its easy smile. "An it please you, mistress, there are two gentlemen here would have a word with Nell Entick."
"Gentlemen!" she cried with a great guffaw. "Gentry of the road, I make no doubt, who would steal away all the girl has—it's little enough, God knows."
A couple of men came sauntering out of the stable and the kitchen maids stood a-titter.
Martin sputtered and stammered and grew redder than before, which she perceiving, bawled in a great voice that rang through the kitchen and far into the house, "Nell Entick, Nell Entick! Devil take the wench, is she deaf as an adder? Nell Entick, here's a 'gentleman' come to the kitchen door to see thee, his face as red as a reeky coal to kindle a pipe of tobacco with."
A shrill chorus of women's laughter came from the kitchen, echoed by a chorus of bass from the stable, and Phil Marsham stepped back in the dark, unwilling to be companioned with the man who had drawn such ridicule upon himself. But as Martin thrust himself forward with a show of bluster and bravado, the click of light footsteps came down the passage, and through the kitchen walked a girl whose flush of anger wondrously became her handsome face.
"Where is the wretch," she cried, and stepping on the doorstone, stood face to face with Martin.
"So, 'tis thou," she sneered. "I thought as much. Well—" she suddenly stopped, perceiving Phil, who stood nearly out of sight in the shadow. "Who is that?" she asked.
The mistress had returned to the kitchen, the girls to their work, the men to the stable.