"That I have given thought to. There's Sutton, the armourer of Holyrood Street. He is well acquainted with my father, having served under him before he set up for himself in the island, and he will willingly provide us with the proper equipment. Let us hasten thither, for, if I mistake not, 'twill be a busy night for him."
A few minutes' walk brought us to the door of the armourer's shop. Not a light was visible, and the windows were shuttered and heavily barred.
I knocked, and, after a little while, finding there was no reply, I knocked louder.
"Who's there?" exclaimed a deep voice. "And what d'ye lack?"
"'Tis I, Humphrey Markham."
"Lord love you, Master Markham! What brings you here this time o' night? Wait but a moment, and I'll unbar the door."
The door was cautiously opened, and, followed by Granville, I entered. The old armourer, holding a candle lantern, ushered us into an apartment which comprised both a shop and a living-room, but, contrary to its usual appearance, the place was practically bare.
The armourer was a short, broad-shouldered man, with massive, muscular arms that ill matched a pair of short, thin legs, which, as if unequal to bear the weight of his body, had assumed a bow-like appearance; while his round, good-humoured face was partially covered by a thick crop of raven-black hair, which surrounded a bald and shiny pate.
"Ah!" he exclaimed, with a ringing laugh, as he noticed my perplexed glances at the almost empty room. "Looks a bit different to when you were here last? Well, Will Sutton can read the signs of the times pretty clearly, I can assure you. Knowing that the arms would be taken in the name of the people, I sent them up to the castle yester-night, and I hold Colonel Brett's receipt for them. Already the mayor has sent thrice for them, but this time he's too late."
"We're come here to get some arms, also," I announced.