“Yes,” replied Armstrong, although the pass had been given up by Frances, and the officer’s inquiry was addressed to her.
“Have you any particular lodging in view?”
“No.”
“You may meet trouble in finding a suitable abiding-place,” said the officer, “more especially for the lady. Northampton is little better than a barracks at the moment. I will take you to ‘The Red Lion.’” Saying this, but without waiting for any reply, he led the way with the swinging lantern. “The Red Lion” proved a much less attractive hostelry than the hospitable “Angel” at Grantham. It seemed occupied chiefly by armed men, and resembled military headquarters more than an inn.
“You will perhaps wish to see to your horses yourself,” suggested the officer to Armstrong.
“Yes, after I am assured that the lady is——”
“Have no anxiety on that score. I will place her in the guardianship of the hostess, and will wait here for you.”
The assurance had all the definiteness of a command, and Armstrong, without further parley, led away his own horse and hers, followed by old John.
“Come this way, madam,” said the officer to Frances.
He escorted her up a stairway, and at the top turned to her and said in a low voice: “General Cromwell’s commands were that you should be brought to him as soon as you arrived.”