"Master Peel," she said, "is all true that the soldier said?"
"True it is, Mistress Annot, I fear. But presently I will go back and find that out for certain."
She sobbed a little, and hurried on, and it was not long before we saw the mill, and heard the rush of the water through its sluices.
As one might have expected, there were no lights to be seen about the house, but when we came to the door, we found that open, which seemed strange, and, to me at least, of ill omen at such a time of trouble. But Annot, who knew the ways of the place, went into the dark entry and called softly. There was no answer, and she came out to me again.
"I suppose that miller has gone to see to the sluices, leaving the door open, as he often will. He will be back anon. I will go up to the wife's room and wake her, that she may not be frightened." And then she added, "I think that I have much to thank you for, Master Peel, but I must not stay now."
I tried to say that no thanks were needed, but she was gone into the darkness of the stairway, and I would not call after her. But I lingered, for I did not like the silence and open door at all. And I was right in doing so, for in a few minutes she was back, calling to me with fear in her voice.
She had found a lantern in some accustomed place, and had lighted it, and in its dim light I saw that she was more terrified than even in the town.
"Master Peel," she cried breathlessly; "the house is empty and all in disorder. What can be wrong, and what shall I do?"
It was plain to me then that the poor folk had fled from some raid of the Yorkist troops. Possibly the house had been searched for fugitives, and the miller arrested, with some unfortunate found on the place, as a sympathiser. But I would not say so at once.