all of he, and I may loosen my feelings.'

He spat gravely at Culpepper's feet. Culpepper lay in the dust, his
arms stretched out to form a cross, his face dead white and his beard
of brilliant red pointing at the keystone of the arch of Calais gate.
Poins lifted his hand, but the pulse still beat, and he dropped it
moodily in the dust.

'Not dead,' he muttered.

'Dead!' Hogben laughed at him. 'Hath been in a boosing ken. There they
drug the wine with simples, and the women--may pox fall on all
women--perfume themselves so that a man goeth stark raving. I warrant
he had silver buttons to his Lincoln green, but they be torn off. I
warrant he had gold buckles to his shoen, but they be gone. His sword
is away, the leather hangers being cut.'

'Wilt not stick him with thy pike, having, as he hath, so mishandled
thee?'

'O aye,' the Lincolnshire man shewed his strong teeth. 'Thee wouldst
have Kat Howard from him. But he may live for me, being more like to
bring her to dismay than ever thee wilt be!'

He looked into the narrow street of the town that the dawn pierced
into through the gateway. Two skinny men in jerkins drawn tight with
belts were yawning in a hovel's low doorway. Under his eyes, still
stretching their arms abroad, they made to slink between the mud walls
of the next alley.

'Oh, hi! _Arrestez. Vesnez!_' he hailed. '_Cestui a comforter!_' The
thin men made to break away, halted, hesitated, and then with dragging
feet made through the pools and filth to the gateway.

'_Tombe! Voleurs! Secourez!_' Hogben pointed at the prostrate figure
in green. They rubbed their shins on their thin calves and appeared
bewildered and uncertain.

'_Portez a lous maisons!_' Hogben commanded.

They stood one on each side and bent down, extending skinny arms to
lift him. Thomas Culpepper sat up and spat in their faces--they fled
like scared wolves, noiselessly, gazing behind them in trepidation.

'Stay them; thieves ho! Stay them!' Culpepper panted. He scrambled to
his feet, and stood reeling, his face like death, when he tried to
make after them.

'God!' he said. 'Give me to drink.'

The young Poins mused under his breath because the man had neither
sword nor dagger. Therefore it would be impossible to have sword play
with him. He had, the young man, no ferocity--but he was set there to
stay Thomas Culpepper's going on to England; he was to stay him by
word or by deed. Deeds came so much easier than words.

'Squah