The third day suddenly they let down the drawbridge and poured out on to it as though for a sortie, but when they perceived the scores of Bolle's men waiting bow in hand and arrow on string, changed their minds and drew the bridge up again.
"They grow hungry and desperate," said the shrewd Jacob.

"Soon we shall have some message from them." He was right, since just before sunset a postern gate was opened and a man, holding a white flag above his head, was seen swimming across the moat.

He scrambled out on the farther side, shook himself like a dog, and advanced slowly to where Bolle and the women stood upon the Abbey green out of arrow-shot from the walls.

Indeed, Cicely, who was weak with dread and wretchedness, leaned against the oaken stake that had never been removed, to which once she was tied to be burned for witchcraft.
"Who is that man ?" said Emlyn to her.
Cicely scanned the gaunt, bearded figure who walked haltingly like one that is sick.
"I know not--yes, yes, he puts me in mind of Jeffrey Stokes!" "Jeffrey it is and no other," said Emlyn, nodding her head.

"Now what news does he bear, I wonder ?" Cicely made no reply, only clung to her stake and waited, with just such a heart as once she had waited there while the Abbey cook blew up his brands to fire her faggots.