She listened. The knock came again, louder. She opened the cottage door; the light from the lamp shone on the outer door leading to the road.
"Who's there?" she asked, bravely, although her heart quaked.
"I've lost my way. I want to get to Little Trent," said Carl, in a muffled voice.
"Go straight on," she said; "it's not far."
"Who lives here?"
"Thomas Thrush, Captain Chesney's gamekeeper."
"That's lucky; I know him. May I come in for a few minutes? I'm tired."
She hardly knew what to say. If she refused he could force his way in; whoever he was, she thought it better to grant his request; it was a bad night to be out.
She opened the door and Carl stepped through. He walked into the cottage.
"Thanks," he said; "is Mr. Thrush in?"