all shaking with the fen fever.

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

"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 you
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 no skill to write," said
Condall.

"Well-a-day!" returned the knight. "Here, then, is no remedy. Yet I
would fain have spared you, Tyndal, had my conscience suffered.--Selden,
take me this old shrew softly to the nearest elm, and hang me him
tenderly by the neck, where I may see him at my riding. Fare ye well,
good Master Condall, dear Master Tyndal; y' are post-haste for Paradise;
fare ye then well!"

"Nay, my right pleasant lord," replied Condall, forcing an obsequious
smile, "an ye be so masterful, as doth right well become you, I will
even, with all my poor skill, do your good bidding."

"Friend," quoth Sir Daniel, "ye will now write two score. Go to! y' are
too cunning for a livelihood of seventy shillings. Selden, see him write
me this in good form, and have it duly witnessed."

And Sir Daniel, who was a very merry knight, none merrier in England,
took a drink of his mulled ale, and lay back, smiling.

Meanwhile the boy upon the floor began to stir, and presently sat up and
looked about him with a scare.

"Hither," said Sir Daniel; and as the other rose a