Hatch made several signs of the cross; but by this time his natural

complexion had returned, and he was not easily to be dashed from any

purpose. It would have gone hard with the chest had not the gate

sounded, and presently after the door of the house opened and admitted a

tall, portly, ruddy, black-eyed man of near fifty, in a surplice and

black robe.

Appleyard"--the newcomer was saying, as he entered; but he stopped dead.

Ave Maria!" he cried. "Saints be our shield! What cheer is this?"

"Cold cheer with Appleyard, sir parson," answered Hatch, with perfect

cheerfulness. "Shot at his own door, and alighteth even now at purgatory

gates. Ay! there, if tales be true, he shall lack neither coal nor

candle."

Sir Oliver groped his way to a joint-stool, and sat down upon it, sick

and white.

This is a judgment! O, a great stroke!" he sobbed, and rattled off a

leash of prayers.

Hatch meanwhile reverently doffed his salet and knelt down.

Ay, Bennet," said the priest, somewhat recovering, "and what may this

be? What enemy hath done this?"

Here, Sir Oliver, is the arrow. See, it is written upon with words,"

The Black Arrow