The village of Chedzey was little more than a collection of mean cottages, the largest of which was the inn. The inhabitants were already stirring, and the wife of the innkeeper was standing at her door when the party approached.

She stared in amazement and pity at Barbara's tattered garments and weary face, and cast a scowl in the direction of the officer whom she recognized as one of the hated Tangiers regiment, lately the scourge of the countryside. To his demand for beds and breakfast she answered sulkily that he must seek further, the house could provide him nothing, and even when he sharply urged his commands, she advanced grumbling objections and refused to move from the doorway.

But upon this her husband appeared, in fear at sight of the officer, and sharply bade her hold her peace, and let the strangers enter.

"Art mad, wife?" he whispered. "Wouldest have the house burned about our ears, that thou darest to thwart one o' Kirke's officers? Stand by, and let him have his way."

"Thou wast ever a chicken-hearted fool, John," retorted the woman scornfully. "This is an honest house, and not for such wastrels as they o' the royal army. But have your way and don't blame me an you like not your customers."

"Pardon, your honour," cried the man, bowing low before the captain. "The woman's tongue runs out of all holding. Peace, jade, and get you in, or 'twill be the worse for you."

With an angry glance at her husband the woman withdrew, and the host led the way upstairs into a poorly-furnished parlour, where after some little delay breakfast was served, no very tempting meal, but welcome indeed to the famished travellers.

Judging that where most is told, least is surmised, Captain Protheroe gave mine host a detailed account of the capture of his prisoners, adding such realistic details as most appealed to his sense of fitness. His horse, he said had been shot by the rebel, hence his journeying to the village on foot, his only trooper having been despatched to Wells for fresh horses and escort.

Barbara and Ralph listened with great interest to the dramatic account of the latter's desperate struggle, with difficulty refraining from applause at the close of his picturesque statement.

But the woman's eyes filled with tears, when she learned the nature of her guests, and when later she conducted Barbara to her chamber, she hung over her with a thousand tender offices, bathing her tired feet, brushing out her tossed hair, doing all in her power to increase the comfort of the weary girl.

"Eh! my dearie, my dearie," she cried pityingly. "What will they do to thee? And so young, too, as thou art. But 'tis a black-hearted crew they are, and no denying it. My heart bleeds for thee, my beauty. Curse them! Curse them to hell, say I. Nay, my tongue runs wildly, I know, but who could help it. Look you, my pretty, I have a son, even such as thy brother yonder, but younger by some years. To the fight he would go, I could not hold him back. And I sat here all that bloody night, hearkening to the firing, dreaming that each shot bore his death. He came not back. Then I went out to search; I sought night and day among the slain, but he was not there. So I blessed Heaven, and waited his return. But he comes not, nor sends, and I know not where he lies; at times 'twould seem I can bear no more, but must e'en go seek him through the world, till I find him. Ah, my lamb! my son, my bonny son, where art thou?"

Thus she wailed, and Barbara, despite her weariness, comforted her as best she might, praying to Heaven for pity on this sorrow no earthly hand could soothe.

Presently the woman recovered, and with many apologies, rose to leave the room, yet she turned once again before she reached the door.

"My dearie, it seems not possible to aid thee, yet be sure, an I can do aught for thee, I will do it. And who can say? A chance may offer. I will watch. Now sleep, I will weary thee no more."

In order to give more realism to the story of his capture, and also to prevent their disturbance, Captain Protheroe chose to rest in the parlour, out of which both the sleeping chambers led. As luck would have it, they were the sole visitors to the inn, a little-frequented place, and were consequently left to sleep in peace throughout the day. They were full wearied, and it was not until five in the evening that Captain Protheroe roused his companions, and summoning mine host, gave orders that dinner be presently served.

The three adventurers were thoroughly refreshed by their long rest, their spirits were high, and when they assembled at the meal they were all prepared to play to the utmost advantage their several parts in the game of chance upon which they had embarked.

Therefore, while mine host prepared the table, Captain Protheroe, remembering his story, enquired most particularly whether his escort had not yet arrived, expressing great indignation when he learned that it was yet to be expected.

Barbara laughed mockingly behind mine host's fat back while this conversation was toward. Her amusement increased as the game proceeded. She longed to add dramatic touches of her own, but prudently refrained. Nevertheless, she challenged the officer mischievously with her eyes, and he, accepting the challenge, cursed the lazy trooper roundly, rated mine host, and bade him keep sharp lookout lest the escort, missing the house, ride past unheeding.

So they sat down to dinner, mocking at Fortune, jesting over the gulf which yawned at their feet.

And Fortune, in revenge for their confidence, turned her wheel.

For, as danger oft shows least when nearest to hand, scarcely had they commenced their meal when the sound of approaching horses broke upon their ears, and two minutes later after a confusion of shouts, the door was burst open, and mine host hurried into the room.

"Your honour!" he cried joyously. "All is well. Your honour's escort has arrived."

Ralph dropped his knife with a rude clatter, and half started from his seat, while a quick gasp of fear escaped from Barbara's white lips.

Captain Protheroe paused for a moment, his glass to his lips; cool soldier though he was, his hand trembled and the red wine splashed over the brim and stained his sleeve.

Then he turned on mine host with a sudden oath:

"What mean you by this intrusion, blockhead?" he thundered. "Shut the door and say your say. What is't?"

"The escort, your honour," stammered mine host. "'Twas even as your honour supposed. They had mistaken the place, and would have ridden past, had I not hailed them, saying your honour was even here. They wait in the street below."

"Let them wait, we cannot set out yet, before we have dined," retorted the captain sharply. "See the men have drink, and leave us. Shut the door behind you," he shouted as mine host left the room, "'tis most infernally cold here."

Directly the door was closed, all three sprang to the window. 'Twas even as the man had said. In the street below six mounted troopers were drawn up; but their leader was not in sight, he stood talking to mine host at the door.

"Heaven help us!" cried Ralph desperately. "What to do now, I wonder. What in heaven and earth can we do?"

Barbara was silent, her eyes fixed on Captain Protheroe's face.

He strode the room fiercely as his custom was, in thought. Then he gave a short laugh.

"So much for vainglorious boastings," he muttered. "Out of our own mouths we are betrayed. Certes, the game is against us now. We could hold the room—but that were folly. And escape is not to be thought on. Yet—Pah! what a fool! No. I see nought to be done, save wear a bold countenance, and play out the game to the end. 'Tis a wise maxim when the luck turns. And it may be the men have not yet heard——"

Again the door was opened and mine host entered once more; the joyous importance had died from his face; he looked depressed and dubious.

"Your honour!" he began nervously, "I seem, in my zeal to obey your commands, to have mistaken the matter. These men are not your honour's escort, but a party of dragoons riding from Bridgewater to Wells. Nevertheless, seeing the escort does not yet arrive, and learning your honour's difficulty, they put themselves at your honour's service. And their honourable commander craves the honour of waiting upon your honour in your honour's room."

A moment's perceptible silence, then with a curt "'Tis well, bring him here," mine host was dismissed.

The three fugitives waited in silence for the man's return. Only when the soldier's footstep sounded on the stairs, Captain Protheroe leaned forward and laid his hand on Barbara's arm.

"Do not be afraid, Mistress Barbara." he said quickly. "We will win safe through this somehow. Trust us."

And Barbara, with trembling lips, smiled bravely back at him.

"I am not afraid," she said simply.

Then mine host, with many obsequious bows, ushered in the visitor.

The officer was a big, blustering fellow, coarse of face, and rough in manner. He strode noisily into the room, and on seeing the captain burst into a boisterous laugh.

"Ha, Protheroe, my boy! Well met. The fellow below couldn't tell me your name or I warrant you I'd have been up here long before. What's all this about your escort, eh? Lost your horse, two captures, and the fool of a trooper not yet returned. Ha, ha! Protheroe, you go well to work. 'Tis good I came this way, you'd scarce fancy passing the night here, eh? We are riding to Wells and can take you on with us."

"Good!" answered the captain quickly. "But we've no hurry to start yet awhile. Sit down and drink, man, the night's young enough yet, and my men may still come. Look you, fellow,"—to mine host,—"set out more wine, and then begone and see to the men below. And harkee, don't come crashing in like a wild bull again; if we want you I will call. And if my men arrive, let them wait below. Now begone."

Then he turned to his guest.

"Come, Jonas, sit down, and drink; there's no need to start for another hour."

Captain Jonas was standing in the centre of the room, hat in hand, bowing elaborately to Barbara, and ogling her the while with his great protruding eyes.

"By Jove, Protheroe!" he drawled, "is this your capture. Zounds! What a prize. You're a hard man to keep such a beauty in limbo. Best put yourself under my protection, mistress; I'll keep you safe. I'll not swear to set you free, but at least I'll wager that pretty face shall never waste in prison."

Checking swiftly an angry movement from Ralph, Barbara curtsied with quiet dignity, and moved again to her seat at the table.

"Oh, ho! a lady, eh? Who is she, Protheroe?" asked Captain Jonas in an audible whisper.

Captain Protheroe shrugged his shoulders.

"Pah! Only a rebel. Come, drink, man, and tell Us news. Where do you hail from?"

"Bridgewater! As dead and drear a hole as ever man was quartered in. Praise be to the devil we're moving on to Wells, and in a month we'll be quit o' this cursed west country, where there is neither a pretty woman—saving your presence, madame—nor a decent bottle of wine for a man to solace himself withal. I thought you were at Taunton, Protheroe!"

"I was—till yesterday. Is there no news from your way?"

"By-the-way, Protheroe!" he exclaimed with a sudden burst of laughter, setting down his glass and slapping his knee. "How could I have forgot it! I' faith there is news, news o' the queerest, and you are the very man it concerns."

"Ah! What then?"

"A fellow came over from Taunton yesterday morning with the wildest tale. Some cock-and-bull story of your arrest, and then later of a prison-breaking, and your disappearance with some woman. But 'twas but a half-drunk trooper, and as I was over in Taunton on Monday and heard nought o' the matter, I beat the fellow as a slanderer of the King's service. 'Twas all a lie, I suppose."

Captain Protheroe glanced quickly at the speaker. Then he leaned across the table and poured out a fresh glass of wine.

"Well, no, not entirely a lie," he answered coolly. "I was arrested, a jest of the colonel's, some wager with my Lord Jeffreys. I was released in the morning, of course. The prison-breaking is true, too, 'twas the same night. But a tale grows like a mushroom in the telling. Heard any news from town?"

"What should I hear in a hole like Bridgewater?" answered Captain Jonas indignantly.

Then he turned to Barbara, at whom he had been staring with insulting openness ever since his entrance.

"I could swear I have seen your face before, madame, but I can't for the life of me recollect where. 'Tisn't a face one forgets soon, neither," he continued, ogling her afresh.

"My poor face is honoured by your recollection, sir," answered the girl coolly. "It must be some............