teful or two in charity and a mug of beer; they gorge ten dishes
themselves, and swill a hogshead. They give a penny to the poor man, and
keep twenty nobles for themselves. They take field after field, house
after house; turn the farmer into the beggar, and the beggar into their
bedesman. And, by God! I say that the sooner King Henry gets rid of the
crew, the better for you and me!"

Ralph snapped out the last words, and stared insolently down on the
gaping faces. Then he finished, standing by the door as he did so, with
his hand on the latch.

"If you would know how I know all this, I will tell you. My name is
Torridon, of Overfield; and I am one of the King's Visitors. Good-night,
gentlemen."

There was the silence of the grave within, as Ralph went upstairs
smiling to himself.

* * * * *

Ralph had intended returning home a week or two after the Lewes
visitation, but there was a good deal to be done, and Layton had pointed
out to him that even if some houses were visited twice over it would do
no harm to the rich monks to pay double fees; so it was not till
Christmas was a week away that he rode at last up to his house-door at
Westminster.

His train had swelled to near a dozen men and horses by now, for he had
accumulated a good deal of treasure beside that which he had left in
Layton's hands, and it would not have been safe to travel with a smaller
escort; so it was a gay and imposing cavalcade that clattered through
the narrow streets. Ralph himself rode in front, in solitary dignity,
his weapon jingling at his stirrup, his feather spruce and bright above
his spare keen face; a couple of servants rode behind, fully armed and
formidable looking, and then the train came behind--beasts piled with
bundles that rustled and clinked suggestively, and the men who guarded
them gay with scraps of embroidery and a cheap jewel or two here and
there in their dress.

But Ralph did not feel so gallant as he looked. During these long
country rides he had had too much time to think, and the thought of
Beatrice and of what she would say seldom left him. The very harshness
of his experiences, the rough faces round him, the dialect of the stable
and the inn, the coarse conversation--all served to make her image the
more gracious and alluring. It was a kind of worship, shot with passion,
that he felt for her. Her grave silences coincided with his own, her
tenderness yielded deliciously to his st