"Well?"
"There'll be time enough to tell you when you come. But I promise you occupation enough."
He paused, as if he would say more and dared not.
"You must tell me more," said the lad slowly. "What kind of occupation?"
Then Anthony did a queer thing. He first glanced at the door, and then went to it quickly and threw it open. The little lobby was empty. He went out, leaned over the stair and called one of his men.
"Sit you there," he said, with the glorious nonchalance of a Babington, "and let no man by till I tell you."
He came back, closed the door, bolted it, and then came across and sat down by his friend.
"Do you think the rest of us are doing nothing?" he whispered. "Why, I tell you that a dozen of us in Derbyshire—" He broke off once more. "I may not tell you," he said, "I must ask leave first."
A light began to glimmer before Robin's mind; the light broadened suddenly and intensely, and his whole soul leapt to meet it.
"Do you mean—?" And then he, too, broke off, well knowing enough, though not all of, what was meant.