‘Then come this way a moment with your light.’
Two of the group went towards the cart-house on the opposite side of the yard, and when they reached it a dark lantern was opened, the rays being directed upon the front of the miller’s waggon.
‘“Loveday and Son, Overcombe Mill,”’ continued the man, reading from the waggon. ‘“Son,” you see, is lately painted in. That’s our man.’
He moved to turn off the light, but before he had done so it flashed over the forms of the speakers, and revealed a sergeant, a naval officer, and a file of marines.
Anne waited to see no more. When Bob stayed up to grind, as he was doing to-night, he often sat in his room instead of remaining all the time in the mill; and this room was an isolated chamber over the bakehouse, which could not be reached without going downstairs and ascending the step-ladder that served for his staircase. Anne descended in the dark, clambered up the ladder, and saw that light strayed through the chink below the door. His window faced towards the garden, and hence the light could not as yet have been seen by the press-gang.
‘Bob, dear Bob!’ she said, through the keyhole. ‘Put out your light, and run out of the back-door!’
‘Why?’ said Bob, leisurely knocking the ashes from the pipe he had been smoking.
‘The press-gang!’
‘They have come? By God! who can have blown upon me? All right, dearest. I’m game.’
Anne, scarcely knowing what she did, descended the ladder and ran to the back-door, hastily unbolting it to save Bob’s time, and gently opening it in readiness for him. She had no sooner done this than she felt hands laid upon her shoulder from without, and a voice exclaiming, ‘That’s how we doos it—quite an obleeging young man!’