As though in answer to her exclamation, there came to her ears a faint tapping of horses' hoofs, and a few moments later three horsemen turned the corner and bore down upon her.
One glance was enough to show her that Guy was not one of the group, and Phœbe leaped back into the shadow of the wall. She felt that she must not be seen watching here alone by anyone. As she stood beneath the fringe of trees that stood outside of the garden wall, she looked about for means of better concealment, and quickly noticed a narrow slit in the high brick enclosure, just wide enough for a man to enter. It had been barred with iron, but two of the bars had fallen from their sockets, leaving an aperture which looked large enough to admit a slender girl.
Phœbe felt instinctively that the approaching riders were unfriendly in their purpose and, without pausing to weigh reasons, she quickly scrambled through this accidental passage, not without tearing her dress.
She found herself within the garden and not far from the very seat where she had hidden from Will Shakespeare. How different her situation now, she thought. Not diffidence, but fear, was now her motive—fear for the man she loved and whom she alone could save.
While she listened there, half choked by the beating of her own heart, she heard the three cavaliers beyond the wall. Their horses were walking now, and the three conversed together in easily audible tones.
"My life on it, Will," said one, "'twas here the wench took cover!"
"Thine eyes are dusty, Jack," replied a deep voice. "'Twas farther on, was it not, Harry?"
The horses stopped.
"Ay—you are i' the right, Will," was the answer. "By the same token, how could the lass be here and we not see her? There's naught to hide a cat withal."
"Nay—nay!" said Will. "Count upon it, Jack, the maid fled beyond the turn yonder. Come on, lads!"