"Come in, come in. Speak not thus aloud without, even at this dead hour of dim loneliness. Men like ourselves stand in sore need of every caution. Come in, and let me lock the door behind us. There may be spies lurking even round these walls."
"Spies!" echoed Cuthbert, as he strode along the passage towards the light. "I fear no spies; I have naught to conceal!"
But the other man was drawing the heavy bolts, and did not hear this remark. He followed Cuthbert into the great vaulted kitchen, which was illumined by a noble fire, the warmth of which was very welcome to the youth after his chilly voyage on the river. There was some cooking going on at the stove, and an appetizing odour filled the air.
Cuthbert turned his curious glance upon the custodian of this strange place, and saw a man who was evidently a gentleman, though very plainly and simply dressed, and employed at this moment in menial toil. He had a thin, worn face, and his eyes gleamed brightly under their heavy brows. He looked like one who had seen both trouble and suffering, and had grown somewhat reckless under successive miseries,
He on his side was attentively regarding Cuthbert.
"Thy name, good youth?" he asked abruptly.
"Cuthbert Trevlyn," was the unhesitating rejoinder.
The lad had not yet learned the prudence of reticence in dealing with strangers. He was neither ashamed of his errand nor of his name.
"Trevlyn--Trevlyn. It is a good name, and I have heard it before. I have heard Catesby speak of thee. So thou hast come with papers for him? Art thou indeed to be one of us?"
The question was asked almost in a whisper, accompanied by a very keen and searching glance. Cuthbert did not exactly know what to make of it.