I see her chocking about a while agone." The host receives this intelligence with an oath, and replies by a violent blow at Mary's head, which she, accustomed to such slight matters, dodges, and then returns the blow with good effect on the shock head.
Whereon mine host, equally accustomed to such slight matters, quietly shambles off, howling as he departs-- "Tell Patrico!" Mary runs in, combs her hair, slips a pair of stockings and her best gown over her dirt, and awaits the coming guests, who make a few long faces at the "mucksy sort of a place," but prefer to spend the night there than to bivouac close to the enemy's camp.
So the old hen who has swallowed the dun fly is killed, plucked, and roasted, and certain "black Dartmoor mutton" is put on the gridiron, and being compelled to confess the truth by that fiery torment, proclaims itself to all noses as red-deer venison.

In the meanwhile Amyas has put his horse and the ponies into a shed, to which he can find neither lock nor key, and therefore returns grumbling, not without fear for his steed's safety.

The baggage is heaped in a corner of the room, and Amyas stretches his legs before a turf fire; while Yeo, who has his notions about the place, posts himself at the door, and the men are seized with a desire to superintend the cooking, probably to be attributed to the fact that Mary is cook.
Presently Yeo comes in again.
"There's a gentleman just coming up, sir, all alone." "Ask him to make one of our party, then, with my compliments." Yeo goes out, and returns in five minutes.
"Please, sir, he's gone in back ways, by the court." "Well, he has an odd taste, if he makes himself at home here." Out goes Yeo again, and comes back once more after five minutes, in high excitement.
"Come out, sir; for goodness' sake come out.

I've got him.

Safe as a rat in a trap, I have!" "Who ?" "A Jesuit, sir." "Nonsense, man!" "I tell you truth, sir.