tress!"

"Well," interposed the other archer; "the girl is not here, but gone on
to the bailiff. So let the burghers settle whether this craven be guilty
or no: for we caught him not in the act: and let him draw us our wine."

"One moment," said Denys shrewdly. "Why cursed he the girl? If he be a
true man, he should bless her as we do."

"Alas, sir!" said the landlord, "I have but my good name to live by, and
I cursed her to you, because you said she had belied me."

"Humph! I trow thou art a thief, and where is the thief that cannot lie
with a smooth face? Therefore hold him, comrades: a prisoner can draw
wine an if his hands be not bound."

The landlord offered no objection; but on the contrary said he would
with pleasure show them where his little stock of wine was, but hoped
they would pay for what they should drink, for his rent was due this two
months.

The archers smiled grimly at his simplicity, as they thought it; one of
them laid a hand quietly but firmly on his shoulder, the other led on
with the torch.

They had reached the threshold when Denys cried "Halt!"

"What is't?"

"Here be bottles in this corner; advance thy light."

The torch-bearer went towards him. He had just taken off his scabbard
and was probing the heap the landlord had just been crouched upon.

"Nay, nay," cried the landlord, "the wine is in the next cellar. There
is nothing there."

"Nothing is mighty hard, then," said Denys, and drew out something with
his hand from the heap.

It proved to be only a bone.

Denys threw it on the floor: it rattled.

"There is nought there but the bones of the house," said the landlord.

"Just now 'twas nothing. Now that we have found something 'tis nothing
but bones. Here's another. Humph? look at this one, comrade; and you
come too and look at it, and bring you smooth knave along."

The archer with the torch, whose name was Philippe, held the bone to the
light and turned it round and round.

"Well?" said Denys.

"Well, if this was a field of battle, I should say 'twas the shankbone
of a man; no more, no less. But 'tisn't a battlefield, nor a churchyard;
'tis an inn."

"True, mate; but yon knave's ashy face is as good a light to me as a
field of battle. I read the bone by it, Bring yon face nearer, I say.
When the chine is amissing, and the house dog can't look at you without
his tail creeping between his legs, who was the thief? Good brothers
mine, my mind it doth misgive me. The d