"Nay, I swear by the Holy Virgin I saw him not," replied the sturdy forester, in perfect truth, for he had not noticed his arrival.
"Hugh came in last," said Lettice's lover, Will. "Hast thou seen aught of this Manners of late, Hugh?"
Manners' first impulse was to grapple with his pursuers, but he controlled himself, and trusting to the perfection of his disguise to screen him, without a moment's hesitation he boldly answered in the negative.
"Not I," he said, emphatically. "I left my axe just outside, and it looks so like rain that I went to fetch it in, but I saw nobody; no, not a soul. Methinks it will rain hard, too, before the morning."
"Tut," interrupted Sir Edward. "Did you hear anybody?"
"No, not even a mouse."
"Then we must search. Out, men, and help us. The man that catches him shall be rewarded well. We must find him; he is hereabouts, for I heard his voice. A murrain on the fellow—all this trouble for a woman's whim."
He glanced suspiciously round the cot, but finding no suspicious tokens he led them out and set them to work to discover him. Few of them, however, were zealous, for Manners had made himself popular among them during his visits to the Hall. Dorothy they adored and they were not at all anxious to bring sorrow upon her to oblige the imperious Stanleys. Besides these considerations, the whole affair was so romantic that it seemed more like an acted ballad than a serious reality while Manners' position appealed to them in such a powerful fashion that they sympathised with him, and had not the search been conducted immediately under the eyes of the two nobles it would have been far more half-hearted than it was. A few, and a few only, were tempted to diligence by the offer of reward, and made a display of alacrity, and amongst the busiest, with a price upon his head, John Manners searched vigilantly for himself.