The
priest wondered, too, what they carried in their trunks.
* * * * *
When he went down to supper in the great room of the inn, he could not
forbear looking round for them. But only one was to be seen--the
liveried servant who had done the talking.
Robin turned to his neighbour--a lawyer with whom he had spoken a few
times.
"That is a new livery to me," he said, nodding towards the stranger.
"That?" said the lawyer. "That? Why, that is the livery of Mr.
Walsingham. I have seen it in London."
* * * * *
Towards the end of supper a stir broke out among the servants who sat at
the lower end of the room near the windows that looked out upon the
streets. Two or three sprung up from the tables and went to look out.
"What is that?" cried the lawyer.
"It is Mr. Beale going past, sir," answered a voice.
Robin lifted his eyes with an effort and looked. Even as he did so there
came a trampling of horses' hoofs; and then, in the light that streamed
from the windows, there appeared a company on horseback. They were too
far away from where he sat, and the lights were too confusing, for him
to see more than the general crowd that went by--perhaps from a dozen to
twenty all told. But by them ran the heads of men who had waited at the
bridge to see them go by; and a murmuring of voices came even through
the closed windows. It was plain that others besides those who were
close to her Grace, saw a sinister significance in Mr.
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