Arnold, who was keeping his countenance admirably, walked up to the
door and knocked on it. It was opened instantly, as if he were expected,
but the woman's face fell when she saw him.
"Is Mr. Bourgoign within?" asked the priest.
The woman glanced over him before answering, and then out to where the
horses waited.
"No, sir," she said at last. "We were looking for him just now...."
(She broke off.) "He is coming now," she said.
Robin turned, and there, walking down the road, was an old man, leaning
on a stick, richly and soberly dressed in black, wearing a black beaver
hat on his head. A man-servant followed him at a little distance.
The priest saw that here was an opportunity ready-made; but there was
one more point on which he must satisfy himself first, and what seemed
to him an inspiration came to his mind.
"He looks like a minister," he said carelessly.
A curious veiled look came over the woman's face. Robin made a bold
venture. He smiled full in her face.
"You need not fear," he said. "I quarrel with no man's religion;" and,
at the look in her face at this, he added: "You are a Catholic, I
suppose? Well, I am one too. And so, I suppose, is Mr. Bourgoign."
The woman smiled tremulously, and the fear left her eyes.
"Yes, sir," she said. "All the friends of her Grace are Catholics, I
think."
He nodded to her again genially. Then, turning, he went to meet the
apothecary, who was now not thirty yards away.
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