filled
for Hugh and Dick. Scarcely had they eaten with their host when the
Marshal and his officers arrived with the articles of the Morrow's
combat very fully drawn up, each of which must be considered with the
help of Sir Geoffrey Carleon, lest they should hide some trick,
before they confirmed them with their signatures. Not that Hugh was
over-anxious about the details. As he said to Sir Geoffrey, all he
sought was to come face to face with his enemy, even if he had but a
club for a weapon.

At length these articles were signed and the Marshal departed with his
fee, for they must be paid for as though they were a legal document.
Next Hugh must try various horses from Sir Geoffrey's stable, and choose
one of them as his war steed for the morrow, since the beast he had
ridden to Venice was in no condition to bear a full-armed knight. In the
end he selected a grey gelding, quiet of temperament and rather heavy
of build, which it was reported had been used by its former owner in
several tournaments and there borne itself handsomely. This done, well
or ill, his armour must be seen to, and Dick's also, such as it was; his
lance tested, and all their other weapons sharpened on a whetstone that
Sir Geoffrey borrowed. For this was a task that Grey Dick would leave to
no other hand.

At length all was prepared as well as possible in such haste, and they
went to supper with Lady Carleon, who, now she understood that they were
to fight for their lives on the morrow, was more mournful even than she
had been on the previous night. When at last she asked what they desired
as to their funerals and if they had any tokens to be sent to friends
in England, Hugh, whose thoughts were already sad enough, could bear no
more of it. So he rose, saying that he would seek Sir Geoffrey, who was
already in his cabinet engaged upon a letter to King Edward descriptive
of these events and other business. But when they were out of the room
he said that he must have fresh air or he would faint, which was not
strange, seeing that heat prevailed on this night in Venice of an
intensity unknown there at this season of the year.

"Whither shall we go?" asked Dick, mopping his brow. "Guards stand at
the door and, I doubt, will not let us pass."

"I wish to see the place where we are to fight to-morrow," answered
Hugh, "so as to form my judgment of it, if only we may come there."

At this moment an English lad of Sir Geoffrey's household chanced to
pa