adjacent shower, decided not to. There was
a limit to all things, and an apparatus for washing one's whole body
was simply too farfetched for anyone living in the sixth-century to
take seriously.

Back in the rec-hall, he donned his helmet and gauntlets, reset the
gauntlet timepiece, picked up his spear and encephalopathed Easy Money
to his side. Mounting, he set the spear in the stirrup socket. Rowena
gazed up at him, plum-blue eyes round with awe and admiration--and
concern. "Wit ye well, fair sir," she said, "that Sir Launcelot, the
which is thy father, is a knight of many victories, and therefore ye
must take care."

Mallory grinned. "Dismay you not, fair damsel, I'll smite him from his
steed before he can say 'Queen Guinevere'." He straightened his sword
belt, activated the _Yore's_ lock, and rode across the mirage-moat and
entered the forest. The "portcullis" closed behind him.

* * * * *

Dusk had become darkness by the time he reached the highway.
Approximately half an hour later he would reach the highway again.
However, the seeming paradox did not disconcert him in the least: this
was far from being the first time he had backtracked himself on a job.

[Illustration]

As "before," he spurned the shadows of the bordering oaks and beeches
and encephalopathed Easy Money to keep to the center of the lane. And,
as "before," no one was abroad. Probably King Pelles' wassail was
already in progress, or, if not, the goodly knights and gentlewomen
were still at evensong. In any event, he reached the lane that led to
the castle of Carbonek without mishap.

After entering the lane, he encephalopathed Easy Money into the
concealment of the shadows of the bordering trees and settled back in
the saddle to wait. Rowena's placing the time of the theft at "a
little while afore eight of the clock" had been a general estimate at
best; hence he had allowed himself plenty of leeway and had arrived on
the scene a little early. It was well that he had, for hardly a minute
passed before he heard hoofbeats approaching from the south, and
presently he saw a tall knight astride a resplendent steed turn into
the lane. His armor gleamed in the moonlight and bespoke a quality and
class that only a knight of Sir Launcelot's status would be able to
afford.

Mallory watched him ride down the lane to the lion-flanked entrance
and heard him announce himself as "Sir Launcelot". The portcullis was
raised w