Mehitable looked at him. Her mother had gone to care for Mistress Briggs, who was ill. The irony of it struck her.
"My mother!" Her voice shook with anger. "Ye dare to ask for my"
Her voice died away into speechlessness. For at that moment the stair-door opened and Mistress Condit, attired in her long, red cardinal, with its hood drawn low over her face, entered.
Now Mehitable had seen her mother depart early that morning, she had been in the kitchen constantly since then and no one had passed through from the outside door, while the stair door was to be reached only by going through the kitchen. Mehitable blinked at the mystery and subsided upon a chair.
Advancing directly to the fire, paying no attention to the company beyond a brief, hurried curtsey, Mistress Condit knelt upon the hearth and poked briskly at the fire. Then, as the men watched her embarrassedly, she spoke in a husky whisper, keeping her back to them.
"Pardon me, gentlemen, I have such a touch of bronchitis as has robbed me o' my voice." She poked busily at the blazing logs.
"Madam," said one of the men, "we would search your house an ye give us permission!"
"But, sir," began Mistress Condit hoarsely.
"Then we search it without your permission!" exclaimed Hawtree rudely.
And he swept most of the men toward the stairs, up which they disappeared noisily. The few remaining in
