Then he went to his door, unbolted it, and walked downstairs to find the
landlord.
III
It was not until ten days later, soon after dawn, that Robin set out on
his melancholy errand. He rode out northward as soon as the gates were
opened, with young "Mr. Arnold," a priest ordained with him in Rheims,
and one of his party, disguised as a servant, following him on a
pack-horse with the luggage. It was a misty morning, white and
cheerless, with the early fog that had drifted up from the river. Last
night the news had come in that Anthony and at least one other had been
taken near Harrow, in disguise, and the streets had been full of riotous
rejoicing over the capture.
He had thought it more prudent to wait till after receiving the news,
which he so much dreaded, lest haste should bring suspicion on himself,
and the message that he carried; since for him, too, to disappear at
once would have meant an almost inevitable association of him with the
party of plotters; but it had been a hard time to pass through. Early in
the morning, after Anthony's flight, he had awakened to hear a rapping
upon the inn door, and, peeping from his window, had seen a couple of
plainly dressed men waiting for admittance; but after that he had seen
no more of them. He had deliberately refrained from speaking with the
landlord, except to remark again upon the luggage of which he caught a
sight, piled no longer in the entrance, but in the little room that the
man himself used.
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