"Pardon, Captain Ellerey."
"Well, sirs, what would you with me? I have little time to waste. I have already called the landlord to pay my reckoning," and as he spoke Ellerey raised the candle above his head to see what manner of men his visitors were.
"Friends, Captain," said the foremost of the two, making the same sign which had gained admittance for the bearer of the token.
He was a man of set features with a pair of keen eyes deeply sunken. His figure was lithe and sinewy, his movements quick and not ungraceful. His dress was of the better peasant class, a short knife was sheathed in his girdle, and one hand rested lightly on the hilt of it as he stood motionless under the Captain's scrutiny. He might have been a forester. His companion stood silently in the shadows behind him.
"By that sign you should know the business I have in hand, and that
I have no time to waste in words."
"True, Captain. We are from her Majesty, and know that the token has been delivered into your keeping here to-night. You have comrades waiting for you, but too few, such is the Queen's opinion, and she bid us join your company."
"I do not like the arrangement," Ellerey answered. "My comrades are picked men that I know the muscles of. I know nothing of you."
"It's a poor welcome, Captain, but it must serve. I have other news for you which may increase our value."
"You run on too fast, my friend," said Ellerey. "Your coming at this eleventh hour ill fits with my precaution."
"We have horses without the city, Captain; we are not ill conditioned for the enterprise."