“Neal, Neal, Neal Ward.”
It was Una’s voice. His father and uncle had passed down the road. The yeomen were eagerly watching their comrades’ attempts to force the door.
Neal stepped over the low stone wall. He felt a hand grasp his and heard Una speak again.
“Neal, stay with us. I’m frightened.”
A low musical laugh followed, and then the voice of the Comtesse—
“You are a most ungallant cavalier, Mr. Neal. You left us alone in one ditch this evening already. You really must not leave us in another.”
The effort to force the door of the meeting-house was unsuccessful.
“Put a musket to the key-hole,” said Captain Twinely, “and blow off the lock.”
There was an explosion. The woodwork was splintered and shattered. A single push opened the door.
“Now,” said Captain Twinely, “come in and search.”