"Sure, my lady. I went in but now to draw his curtains according to custom and found him sleeping soft as any child, God be thanked. But why——"
"Because he intends to go away—soon."
"Where to, my lady?"
"Back to the wars."
The Sergeant swore, apologised immediately, and saluted.
"Be you sure, my lady?"
"Quite, O quite, Sergeant."
"But he would never go without me, mam, couldn't possibly—'twould be agin natur', d'ye see."
"But he will, Sergeant, he hath written me so—he will ride away—steal away at midnight—alone—to-night mayhap or to-morrow night—we must stay him."
The Sergeant stared grimly at a bold thrush that hopped upon the grass near by.