His men were in the
woods, escape was impossible.
There was some little delay in answering his summons, and then a servant
came to the door.
"Is your master, Mr. Gilbert Crosby, within?"
"I think he is asleep, sir; but will you be pleased to enter?"
The girl looked innocent enough, but Lord Rosmore was too well versed in
artifice not to be cautious.
"My horse is restive, as you see. Will you request your master to come
out and speak with me for a moment?"
The girl curtsied and departed with her message, leaving the door open.
"He suspects nothing," Rosmore whispered to a man beside him.
"I am not so certain," was the answer, "since the door is left so
invitingly open. It would be natural to enter, and an ambush might await
us within. That girl was over simple to be natural, it seemed to me."
"Keep watch upon the windows above, some of you," said Rosmore in a low
tone. "If this is a well-baited trap we are not such fools as to walk
into it."
The girl reappeared and came across the hall.
"I cannot find my master," she said. "He will be in the gardens
somewhere. Will you not come in and wait?"
For a moment Rosmore hesitated, and then dismounted.
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