"My name is Trevlyn," answered Cuthbert shortly, disliking, he
hardly knew why, the aspect and ways of the place.

He fancied that a slight sensation followed this announcement.
Certainly the landlord bowed lower than there was occasion for as
he held open the door for his visitor to pass out. Cuthbert was
puzzled, and a little annoyed. He was half inclined not to go there
again; but curiosity got the better of his resolve as the afternoon
hours drew on. After all, what did it matter what manner of man
this was, since he need never see him again after today? It would
be foolish not to reclaim his money, and might lead Master Robert
Catesby to inquire for him at his uncle's house, and that he did
not wish. The thing had better be done, and be done quickly. How
foolish it would be to go back to Cherry and say he had not
accomplished his errand because some odd-looking men had stared at
him, and because the tavern was ill smelling and dirty!

It was three o'clock, however, before the youth again entered the
unsavoury abode. As December had already come, the days were
approaching their shortest limit; and as heavy clouds hung in the
sky, the streets already began to look dark. Within the ill-lighted
tavern the obscurity was still greater. Cuthbert pushed his way
through the door, and found himself amongst the afternoon drinkers,
who were making the room ring with ribald songs and loud laughter.
But the host quickly singled him out, and approached with an air of
deference.

"The gentleman you asked for is upstairs. He directed that you
should be sent to him on your arrival. I am too busy to go up the