“Where are you?” she cried.
“Here,” answered Tom, stepping from his hiding-place.
“You are in great danger,” panted Lucy.
“I heard all,” said the boy, quietly.
“Run,” she cried. “They will have no mercy, if they take you.”
“I should expect none in that event.”
The tramp of feet sounded in the hall, coming toward the door.
“They are coming,” exclaimed the poor, frightened girl. “Oh, what will you do?”
“Calm yourself. If you look as frightened as all that they will be assured that they are upon the scent of something. Be brave; I know you can do it, Lucy, if you want to.”
He was unable to say more before the door opened. He turned and ran rapidly and softly until he rounded the corner of the house at the upper side. A group of fierce, hectoring men, with sabres belted at their waists, trooped out at the heels of Mark Harwood.