the back room to dish it up.

"The man with the slit face has been," said Mistress Waynflete
composedly. "He came hunting for quarters, but Mistress Tonks frightened
him off. At any rate, he soon left."

"Did he recognize you as 'Moll' of the Hanyards?"

"I'm quite sure that he did not. I turned my back the moment he entered,
and my hood was up. Moreover, I did not speak a word. Mother Tonks said
that I was staying here for the night because my father's house was full
of soldiers. She couldn't and wouldn't, she said, have a soldier here for
all the worshipful mayors in England. I was quite amused at the way she
talked him back to the door and through it."

The little woman bustled in to lay the supper things. She was bubbling
over with elation. "It'll be another ten or fifteen minutes, will the
rabbit-stew. The lady will have told you about ugly mug, Master Oliver. I
got him out in no time. His head was all mouth like a cod-fish. I'll soon
be back. I expect you're both hungry."

Off she bustled again, and we again settled down to our talk. I was
anxious to see if she could throw any light on Brocton's dealing with her
father. His conduct was to me wholly inexplicable. Then, too, there was
his obvious understanding with Major Tixall in the matter of the latter's
attack on Master Freake. Who was this stranger and why had he incurred
Brocton's enmity? Here was a whole string of puzzles awaiting solution.
But before I could start the conversation we were again interrupted. The
latch clicked, the door opened, and in walked my Lord Brocton.