“Sally wouldn’t hold ye to it if she knew how it is; let Dooina see to her.”
“No, no, I can’t; he must do the best he can while I can join him. It must come to pass as it will.”
“Heigho!... Very well. Is aught heard o’ Ellah yet?”
“No,” she answered distractedly.
The merchant had not smoked during that day; he now rose for tobacco. Slowly he filled and lighted his pipe, and puffed thoughtfully for a time.
“Well, we’ll manage somehow, no doubt,” he said composedly at last. “They’ll be here for me soon.”
“You too!” Cicely moaned; and he made a slight gesture of impatience.
“The devil take the women!... Yes, for me; but they’ve got a prickly piece when they’ve got me. I’ve made myself safe, as I’ve made all safe this many a year; they’d ha’ been badly to seek this last day or two wi’out Matthew. Now listen. Arthur ’ll have to chance it for himself now. ‘The parson’s, Wadsworth, to-night,’ was all I said in the note. I’m not going to tell ye where he is, and if ye love him keep away from the parson’s—keep out o’ Wadsworth. The parson’s! Nay, that caps me; who’d ha’ thought—hark!... Ay, I told ye; they’re here. Off wi’ ye, quick. Ye can go out o’ the front door now; good-bye for a bit.... Nay, don’t blubber all ower my hands!... off wi’ ye, and keep as far away from Wadsworth as ye can till all’s ready——”
He closed the door behind her and sat down to his pipe again. He had not finished the pipe before he was put under close arrest, with a sentry on either side of his dining-room door.
Monjoy had heard the marching of fresh troops down the Fullergate, and, at intervals during the afternoon, distant confused roars. Of Webster’s stackyard he knew nothing. Moon’s message came; he was mortally weary of that dingy garret, and he waited impatiently till nightfall. Ten o’clock came, and he still waited, hearing movements out in the town; and then the Piece Hall bell struck eleven. All was quiet, and he opened the crane doors. He flung his rope over the crane-arm, and as he did so saw why Matthew had sent one so long; he could descend by it doubled and take it away instead of leaving it dangling. He stood on the narrow sill, closed the doors behind him, and slipped to earth. The night was moonless and dark. Quickly he crossed yards and gardens and crofts, and now and then poultry stirred or a dog barked. He had so mapped out his way that he had only two deserted streets to cross. Down the first of them a soldier marched, making noise enough for ten, and Monjoy waited till his tramp sounded in the distance and crossed swiftly and noiselessly. He continued over walls and across more gardens. One light only burned, and he passed it within a hundred yards; it was the window of the chamber where Cicely watched Sally. He stopped for a minute and regarded it; then he passed on again to the fields above the Shelf road. At one o’clock in the morning he knocked at the parson’s door and was admitted. He was led to a room on the ground floor without light; a couch was indicated to him, and he was left without a word.