“By the by, Martin,—any message from my lady mother?”
“None!”
“Quite right and pious. I am an enemy to Holy Church and therefore to her. Good night, uncle.”
“Hey?” asked Brand; “where is that footman,—Martin you call him? I must have another word with him.”
But Martin was gone.
“No matter. I shall question him sharply enough to-morrow, I warrant.”
And Hereward went out to his lodging; while the good Prior went to his prayers.
When Hereward entered his room, Martin started out of the darkness, and followed him in. Then he shut to the door carefully, and pulled out a bag.
“There was no message from my lady: but there was this.”
The bag was full of money.