“You are right,” said Albert Lee to his sister, pulling her to one side, “quite right—the Archfiend himself is upon us!”
“And the feather,” said Alice, whom fear had rendered apprehensive of slight tokens, “means flight—and a woodcock is a bird of passage.”
“You have hit it,” said her brother; “but the time has taken us cruelly short. Give the boy a trifle more—nothing that can excite suspicion, and dismiss him. I must summon Rochecliffe and Joceline.”
He went accordingly, but, unable to find those he sought, he returned with hasty steps to the parlour, where, in his character of Louis, the page was exerting himself to detain the old knight, who, while laughing at the tales he told him, was anxious to go to see what was passing in the hall.
“What is the matter, Albert?” said the old man; “who calls at the Lodge at so undue an hour, and wherefore is the hall-door opened to them? I will not have my rules, and the regulations laid down for keeping this house, broken through, because I am old and poor. Why answer you not? why keep a chattering with Louis Kerneguy, and neither of you all the while minding what I say?—Daughter Alice, have you sense and civility enough to tell me, what or who it is that is admitted here contrary to my general orders?”
“No one, sir,” replied Alice; “a boy brought a message, which I fear is an alarming one.”
“There is only fear, sir,” said Albert, stepping forward, “that whereas we thought to have stayed with you till to-morrow, we must now take farewell of you to-night.”
“Not so, brother,” said Alice, “you must stay and aid the defence here—if you and Master Kerneguy are both missed, the pursuit will be instant, and probably successful; but if you stay, the hiding-places about this house will take some time to search. You can change coats with Kerneguy too.”
“Right, noble wench,” said Albert; “most excellent—yes—Louis, I remain as Kerneguy, you fly as young Master Lee.”
“I cannot see the justice of that,” said Charles.