“My shop!” echoed the armourer. “I give you my word, Reverend Sirs, that there is nothing in my shop that—”
“The less reason why you should hesitate to lead us thither,” interrupted Phil, sternly.
“Of course; of course,” agreed the man, anxiously. “Follow me, your Reverences; I have nothing to conceal; nothing to conceal.” Then, scrambling to his feet and taking up the candle, the man proceeded a few steps along the passage, flung open a door, raised the candle above his head in such a manner as to throw the light into the room, and stood aside to allow his unwelcome and untimely visitors to enter.
“After you, friend,” remarked Phil, waving his hand for the armourer to precede them. “And light a lamp or two,” he added, “we must have more light than your candle affords.”
The man bowed, entered the room, which was in fact the shop, set the candlestick down upon a bench, and proceeded to light a couple of lamps which stood on wall brackets. While he was doing this his visitors were busily engaged in noting the contents of the shop, so far as the imperfect light afforded by the single candle permitted. The most prominent objects, and those which therefore first arrested their attention, were half a dozen complete suits of very fine armour, two of them being black inlaid with fine gold scroll-work, while the others were perfectly plain, but highly polished. Then there were back and breast pieces, greaves, gauntlets, maces, axes, and sheaves of arrows suspended from the walls, several very fine bows tied up in a bundle in one corner; and last, but by no means least, a large case resting upon a counter, in which were set out a number of swords, daggers, and poniards. There were also three long cases ranged along the base of the side and back walls of the shop, which the two visitors shrewdly suspected contained firearms and ammunition.
“Now, Reverend Sirs,” said the armourer as, having lighted the two lamps, he turned and faced the two hooded figures, with a bow, “I am at your service. Be pleased to give me your commands.”
“It is well,” retorted Phil. “Now, hark ye, friend Cervantes, you are credited with being a man of discretion; see to it, then, that ye justify your reputation by observing the most complete silence regarding this visit. You understand me?”
“Perfectly, Father,” replied the armourer. “No word or hint will I breathe to a living soul about it.”
“Good!” replied Phil. “You will do well to remember that promise, and keep it. Now, for a reason which does not concern you in the least, we require certain arms, and they must be the very best you have. To begin with, therefore, show me the two best swords in your stock.”
“Arms! swords!” ejaculated the astonished Cervantes, looking keenly at his visitors. Then, suddenly seizing the candle and thrusting it forward, he endeavoured to peer into their faces. “Who are ye?” he exclaimed. “Ye are not—ah! I have it. Ye are the two English prisoners who this morning—”