f Master Stuteley's
detachment from the other strollers. The old tumbler was shrewd enough
to see that his son would considerably better his fortunes by joining
them with those of Robin of Locksley. Will was delighted, and wished to
commence his duty in Robin's service by instructing his young master at
once in the arts of wrestling, single-stick, and quarter-staff.

The Squire laughed at their enthusiasm.

"Do you leave me, Robin, to the care of your mother: I warrant me I'll
come to no harm!" he said. "There are matters on which I would talk with
her, and we must be at peace."

Montfichet dismissed them. He was quite restored by this time, and
settled himself to a serious conversation with his sister.

There were subjects which he touched upon only to her--being a secret
man in some things, and very cautious.

"Having now no son, and being a lonely man," he had written in his
letter, and Dame Fitzooth had known from this that unhappy relations
still existed between George of Gamewell and Geoffrey Montfichet, his
only son.

The two men had been for a long time on unfriendly terms, though the
Squire latterly had sought honestly to undo that which had been years
a-doing. He could not own to himself that the fault was his altogether:
but Geoffrey, exiled to London, had been brought back to Gamewell at his
father's entreaty. For a time things had gone on in a better
direction--then had come Prince John's rebellion.

Geoffrey Montfichet was found to have been implicated in it, and had
been condemned to death. Only by the Squire's most strenuous endeavors
had this sentence been commuted by the King to life punishment. Geoffrey
fled to Scotland, whilst the Squire had been exercising himself on his
erring son's behalf. It was the last straw, and George Montfichet
disinherited his son. The hard-won Manor of Gamewell must pass from the
line.

Squire George had suddenly perceived a chance to prevent that
catastrophe. He had taken greatly to the lad Robin Fitzooth: and this
boy was of the true Montfichet blood--why should he not adopt the
Montfichet name and become the Montfichet heir?

This notion had been simmering in the Squire's mind. It had been born at
that moment when Robin had so cared for him and fought for him in
Nottingham Fair. "Here, at last," said the Squire, "have I found a son,
indeed."

Mistress Fitzooth had to listen to her brother's arguments submissively.
The dame saw stormy days for her ahead, for