uch
killing!" The scene in the Sheriff's kitchen arose before him. "This
time I will fling you into the river, Master Roger--be sure of it. I
wonder what evil hath brought you to this house of all others! If by
chance you have harmed any one of them vengeance shall fall upon you
swift and deadly."

A thin rain had commenced to fall, and so the beggar turned back.

The house was dark and silent. The beggar stopped in front of it
uncertainly, grumbling under his breath at the driving rain. Just as he
was about to move towards the door, the click of its latch warned him to
jump back into the shadows of the next house.

A white face looked out of the Fitzwalter home, stealthily peering right
and left. Little John crept farther into the shadows.

The cook came out into the wet road. He seemed to be scared and
troubled. After a moment's pause he returned to the house, entered it
silently, and Little John heard the latch click once more.

"Now, what mischief is in the air?" thought Little John. "Some knavish
business doubtless, or my friend Roger would not be in it. By my faith,
I do mistrust that man."

He went back into the middle of the road with his sacks, and commenced
crying his wares afresh. Almost at once Roger opened the door again. "A
murrain upon you, noisy rascal," he called; "can you not be still?"

"Ay, truly, an it pay me," answered Little John, lurching towards him,
as though he were tipsy. "Can I strike a bargain with you, gossip?"

"What have you in the sacks, beggar?"

"Everything in the world, brother. I have gifts for the rich, presents
for the poor."

"Have you anything fit for a cook?" asked Roger.

"I have a basting spoon and a spit."

"I will give you meat and bread--much as you can carry--if you have such
a spoon as my kitchen lacks," whispered Roger.

Little John dived his hand into a sack, and brought out a silver ladle,
which he had stolen from a shop that day. Roger took it eagerly, and his
fingers were icy cold.

"Put your sacks down by the door, dear gossip," said Roger, after a
moment's pause. "_Here_ they will be out of the rain. I must go within
to examine this ladle."

"Have you not a tankard of ale to give me?" begged Little John, "I am
worn with the day."

"Enter, friend," Roger said then. "Tread lightly, for fear we disturb my
folk." He took Little John into the dark passage. "I'll bring your sacks
in for you, whilst you are here," continued Roger, very obligingly; and