Across the captain's mind flashed a wild project of bearing her away in search of her uncle's house, which he knew was somewhere in the neighbourhood; but he heard a sudden fierce dash of the long-expected rain against the rear windows, saw how faint and exhausted she was, thought of the opposition she would offer, and considered the up-hill fight he would have to wage against an enemy desperate with the fear of losing his prey. He had a better idea,—one in which prowess might be supplemented with craft.
Quite near him, in the wall at his right hand, was the open door to the porter's room which he had noticed upon arriving at the house; it had no other means of entrance or exit, its high-placed window being a mere slit. He purposely moved a little to the left. Millicent, seeing an opening, glided along the wall to escape him. He sprang forward, and confronted her just at the door of the porter's room. Recoiling from him, she instinctively darted through the door. "Good!" cried the captain, taking his place in the doorway, his face to the hall.
Millicent, in the little room, sank upon a pallet, which was its only furniture, and put out her hands to keep the captain from approaching her. But she saw that he had stopped at the threshold, with his back to her. It was, indeed, no part of his plan to follow her into the room.
Jerningham, startled at the maid's sudden disappearance, ran forward with a cry of rage; but Ravenshaw met sword and dagger with sword and dagger, and Jerningham was fain to draw back to save his body. Matters thereupon resumed a state of abeyance, during which men recovered breath, regained their feet, and took account of bleeding heads and flesh wounds.
"Hark you!" spoke the captain, in a tone meant for her as well as for Jerningham. "It is now for us to prove which of us means this lady no harm. Let her abide where she is, till the storm and the night are past; then, together, we'll conduct her to her friends. And meanwhile, the man who attempts to enter this room declares himself her enemy."
Jerningham's face showed the rage of temporary defeat. "Then come from the door there," he said, sullenly, for want of a better speech.
"Nay, for this night I am the door here,—though she may close this wooden door an she please. These"—his sword and dagger—"she'll find true bolts and bars. She may e'en sleep, if she will,—there's a pallet to lie on."
Sitting weak and perplexed on the pallet in the dark little apartment, she wondered what purpose the captain might be about.
At the suggestion of sleep, Jerningham had an idea. Pretending to confer in whispers with Sir Clement, he secretly beckoned Gregory, who was still in his false beard. The servant approaching without appearance of intent, Jerningham, still under cover of talking to Ermsby, asked in undertone for the sleeping potion which Gregory was to have obtained. The lackey transferred a phial in an unperceived manner to his master's hand. Pocketing it in triumph, Jerningham turned to the captain:
"We shall see how honestly you mean, then. And that the lady may rest freer of annoyance, send these knaves of yours out of her hearing, back to their ale."