“Nay, man,” answered Hugh testily, “first I must know how she fares.”
“The lady Eve will fare neither better nor worse for your knowing about her, but one with whom you should talk may fare further, for doubtless his spies are out. But have your way and leave me to thank God that no woman ever found a chance to clog my leg, perhaps because I was not born an ass.”
It is doubtful if Hugh heard these pungent and practical remarks, for ere Dick had finished speaking them, he was off his horse, and hammering at the Preceptory door. Some while passed before any answer came, for Sir Andrew was walking in the garden beyond the church, in no happy mind because of certain rumours that had reached him, and the old nun Agnes, spying armed men and not knowing who they were, was afraid to open. So it came about that fifteen minutes or more went by before at length Hugh and his godsire stood face to face.
“How is Eve and where? Why is she not with you, Father?” he burst out.
“One question at a time, son, for whose safe return I thank God. I know not how she is, and she is not with me because she is not here. She has returned to her father at Blythburgh.”
“Why?” gasped Hugh. “You swore to keep her safe.”
“Peace, and you shall learn,” and as shortly as he could he told him.
“Is that all?” asked Hugh doubtfully, for he saw trouble in Sir Andrew’s face.
“Not quite, son. Only to-day I have learned that Acour and his folk never went to London, and are back again at Blythburgh Manor.”
“So much the better, Father, for now I have the King’s warrant addressed to the Mayor and all his Grace’s subject in Dunwich, to take these Frenchmen, living or dead.”