p to the end of the alley.
There was a door, which yielded to him.

Next instant he had plunged into the open lighted space before
Nottingham Castle, into the midst of a shouting throng. The
illuminations had not been a success, owing to the rain, but they gave
enough light to achieve Little John's undoing. The beggar was seized and
his bags were torn from him, just as those other pursuers sprang out
through the alley.

"He hath robbed a house, and killed a man," shouted the foremost. "Hold
him fast and sure."

"Nay--I have killed no one," cried the giant, struggling hopelessly and
desperately. "Take my bags an you will; I was but bearing them to my
master."

"Pretty goods to be carrying, indeed," said a voice, as someone turned
one bag upside down. On to the hard wet stones rolled a number of things
collected by this industrious outlaw--pockets, daggers, purses, knives,
pieces of gold, and pennies of silver, a motley company of valuables.

"They are my master's," panted Little John, furiously. "Let them be."

"See what he hath in the other sack," cried another. "He seemeth to have
robbed our butchers also." The sack was opened, and the contents laid
bare.

A sudden silence fell upon the crowd, a silence of horror and hate. Then
a thousand tongues spoke at once, and Little John, frozen cold with
loathing, saw under the flickering lamps a dreadful thing.

Out of the second sack had fallen the limbless trunk of a dead man, cold
and appalling even in this uncertain light. A head, severed through the
jugular arteries, rolled at his feet, grinning and ghastly.

"'Tis Master Fitzwalter," whispered one, in a lull. "Dead and
dishonored----"

The clamor became deafening, and Little John felt his senses failing
fast. He was beaten and struck at by them all; they tore at him, and
cursed him.

Their blows and their rage were as nothing beside the thought of that
awful thing upon the ground. The crowd and the lamps reeled and swam
before the outlaw's eyes and became blurred.

But the grim vision of that dreadful body became plainer and plainer to
him. It assumed terrible proportions, shutting out all else.

CHAPTER XXVIII

As the days sped on and nothing was heard of Little John, Robin began to
grow more and more anxious. He made up his mind to go himself into
Nottingham and there see Marian, and discover and (if need be) rescue
his faithful herdsman.

All the greenwood men were against him in this, howev