ave
sworn it. But hand them first the bag that you have taken."

She drew it out from under her loose cloak. "Here it is, gentle sir.
Indeed it went to my heart to take it, for you had mercy upon me in my
trouble. But now I am, as you see, in real and very sore distress. Will
you not have mercy now? Take ruth on us, fair sir! On my knees I beg it
of you, most gentle and kindly Squire!"

Nigel had clutched his bag, and right glad he was to feel that the
treasures were all safe within it. "My proffer is given," said he. "I
will say what I can; but the issue rests with others. I pray you to
stand up, for indeed I cannot promise more."

"Then I must be content," said she, rising, with a composed face. "I
have prayed you to take ruth, and indeed I can do no more; but ere I go
back to the forest I would rede you to be on your guard lest you lose
your bag once more. Wot you how I took it, archer? Nay, it was simple
enough, and may happen again, so I make it clear to you. I had this
knife in my sleeve, and though it is small it is very sharp. I slipped
it down like this. Then when I seemed to weep with my face against the
saddle, I cut down like this--"

In an instant she had shorn through the stirrup leather which bound her
man, and he, diving under the belly of the horse, had slipped like a
snake into the brushwood. In passing he had struck Pommers from beneath,
and the great horse, enraged and insulted, was rearing high, with two
men hanging to his bridle. When at last he had calmed there was no sign
left of the "Wild Man" or of his wife. In vain did Aylward, an arrow on
his string, run here and there among the great trees and peer down the
shadowy glades. When he returned he and his master cast a shamefaced
glance at each other.

"I trust that we are better soldiers than jailers," said Aylward, as he
climbed on his pony.

But Nigel's frown relaxed into a smile. "At least we have gained back
what we lost," said he. "Here I place it on the pommel of my saddle, and
I shall not take my eyes from it until we are safe in Guildford town."

So they jogged on together until passing Saint Catherine's shrine they
crossed the winding Wey once more, and so found themselves in the steep
high street with its heavy-caved gabled houses, its monkish hospitium
upon the left, where good ale may still be quaffed, and its great
square-keeped castle upon the right, no gray and grim skeleton of ruin,
but very quick and alert, with blazoned