CHAPTER XXI. THE ASSAULT OF THE CAVERN.
"By all description this should be the place.
Who's here?"
SHAKESPEARE.
Harvest was over, and the autumn evenings were darkening. It was later than the usual bed time, but Patience had a piece of spinning which she was anxious to finish for the weaver who took all her yarn, and Stead was reading Dr. Eales's gift of the Morte d'Arthur, which had great fascination for him, though he never knew whether to regard it as truth or fable. He wanted to drive out the memory of what Mrs. Lightfoot had told him about the Henshaw household, where the youngest of the lady's brothers had lately arrived from beyond seas, bringing with him habits of noise and riot, which greatly scandalised the neighbours.
Suddenly Growler started up with pricked ears, and emitted a sound like thunder. Patience checked her wheel. There was an unmistakable sound of steps. Stead sprang up. Growler rushed at the door with a furious volley of barking. Stead threw it open, catching up a stout stick as he did so, and the dog dashed out, but was instantly driven back with an oath and a blow. It was a bright moonlight night, and Stead beheld three tall men evidently well armed.
"Ho, you fellow there," one called out, "keep back your cur, we don't want to hurt him nor you."
"Then what are you doing here?" demanded Stead.
"We are come for what you wot of. For the King's service."
"Who sent you?" asked Stead, for the moment somewhat dazed.
One of them laughed and said, "As if you did not know."