CHAPTER VIII.
TOO LATE It was past three o'clock on this same day when Eve had drunk the milk and some hours after she began to dream, that Hugh de Cressi and his men, safe and sound but weary, halted their tired horses at the door of the Preceptory of the Templars in Dunwich.
"Best go on to his worship the Mayor and serve the King's writ upon him, master," grumbled Grey Dick as they rode up Middlegate Street.

"You wasted good time in a shooting bout at Windsor against my will, and now you'll waste more time in a talking match at Dunwich.

And the sun grows low, and the Frenchmen may have heard and be on the wing, and who can see to lay a shaft at night ?" "Nay, man," answered Hugh testily, "first I must know how she fares." "The lady Eve will fare neither better nor worse for your knowing about her, but one with whom you should talk may fare further, for doubtless his spies are out.

But have your way and leave me to thank God that no woman ever found a chance to clog my leg, perhaps because I was not born an ass." It is doubtful if Hugh heard these pungent and practical remarks, for ere Dick had finished speaking them, he was off his horse, and hammering at the Preceptory door.

Some while passed before any answer came, for Sir Andrew was walking in the garden beyond the church, in no happy mind because of certain rumours that had reached him, and the old nun Agnes, spying armed men and not knowing who they were, was afraid to open.