"Sir Nicholas might intercede for thee with the Queen," Stanley went on. "He owes me some service, and is not ungrateful."
"Hush! there is someone coming," interposed the baron. "Let us say no more at present."
It was the maid bringing in the dinner; and, folding up the paper, Sir George carefully deposited it within his breast pocket, and relapsed into a moody silence as they began and continued the meal.
Meanwhile, outside the inn a very different scene was being enacted.
No sooner had Sir Thomas Stanley entered the house than the ostler, having quickly stabled the horses, emerged into the yard again, and putting his fingers into his mouth he blew a soft peculiar whistling note, and reared himself up beside the wall to await the answer.
It was not long in coming, for almost directly the door of the stable loft above him opened, and the head of the locksmith of Haddon cautiously peeped out.
"Is all clear?" he inquired.
"Yes, they have both gone in to dine. I didn't know you were there. I will come up and join you."
In another minute the ostler stood beside the once more disguised Edmund Wynne, and the two, secure from intrusion, began to converse with unrestrained freedom.
"Well, are they the right ones?" he asked, as he fastened the trap-door down.