oroughs,
and I will have Adam-a-More high constable; see to it narrowly. If other
men be chosen, it shall avail you nothing; rather it shall be found to
your sore cost. For those that have paid rent to Walsingham I shall take
good measure--you among the rest, mine host."

"Good knight," said the host, "I will swear upon the cross of Holywood I
did but pay to Walsingham upon compulsion. Nay, bully knight, I love not
the rogue Walsinghams; they were as poor as thieves, bully knight. Give
me a great lord like you. Nay; ask me among the neighbours, I am stout
for Brackley."

"It may be," said Sir Daniel, drily. "Ye shall then pay twice."

The innkeeper made a horrid grimace; but this was a piece of bad luck
that might readily befall a tenant in these unruly times, and he was
perhaps glad to make his peace so easily.

"Bring up yon fellow, Selden!" cried the knight.

And one of his retainers led up a poor, cringing old man, as pale as a
candle, and all shaking with the fen fever.

"Sirrah," said Sir Daniel, "your name?"

[Illustration: _"Now, mark me, mine host," Sir Daniel said, "follow but
mine orders, and I shall be your good lord ever"_]

"An't please your worship," replied the man, "my name is
Condall--Condall of Shoreby, at your good worship's pleasure."

"I have heard you ill reported on," returned the knight. "Ye deal in
treason, rogue; ye trudge the country leasing; y'are heavily suspicioned
of the death of severals. How, fellow, are ye so bold? But I will bring
you down."

"Right honourable and my reverend lord," the man cried, "here is some
hodge-podge, saving your good presence. I am but a poor private man, and
have hurt none."

"The under-sheriff did report of you most vilely," said the knight.
"'Seize me,' saith he, 'that Tyndal of Shoreby.'"

"Condall, my good lord; Condall is my poor name," said the unfortunate.

"Condall or Tyndal, it is all one," replied Sir Daniel, coolly. "For, by
my sooth, y'are here, and I do mightily suspect your honesty. If ye
would save your neck, write me swiftly an obligation for twenty pound."

"For twenty pound, my good lord!" cried Condall. "Here is midsummer
madness! My whole estate amounteth not to seventy shillings."

"Condall or Tyndal," returned Sir Daniel, grinning, "I will run my peril
of that loss. Write me down twenty, and when I have recovered all I may,
I will be good lord to you, and pardon you the rest."

"Alas! my good lord, it may not be; I have