pen, and the Bohemian, darting through it with the speed of lightning,
fled forth into the moonlight. During this scene, a suspicion which
Durward had formerly entertained, recurred with additional strength.
Hayraddin had, that very morning, promised to him more modest and
discreet behaviour than he was wont to exhibit, when they rested in a
convent on their journey, yet he had broken his engagement, and had been
even more offensively obstreperous than usual. Something probably lurked
under this, for whatever were the Bohemian's deficiencies, he lacked
neither sense, nor, when he pleased, self command, and might it not be
probable that he wished to hold some communication, either with, his own
horde or some one else, from which he was debarred in the course of
the day by the vigilance with which he was watched by Quentin, and had
recourse to this stratagem in order to get himself turned out of the
convent?

No sooner did this suspicion dart once more through Quentin's mind,
than, alert as he always was in his motions, he resolved to follow his
cudgelled guide, and observe (secretly if possible) how he disposed of
himself. Accordingly, when the Bohemian fled, as already mentioned, out
at the gate of the convent, Quentin, hastily explaining to the Prior the
necessity of keeping sight of his guide, followed in pursuit of him.

CHAPTER XVII: THE ESPIED SPY

What, the rude ranger? and spied spy?--hands off--
You are for no such rustics.

BEN JONSON'S TALE OF ROBIN HOOD

When Quentin sallied from the convent, he could mark the precipitate
retreat of the Bohemian, whose dark figure was seen in the far moonlight
flying with the speed of a flogged hound quite through the street of the
little village, and across the level meadow that lay beyond.

"My friend runs fast," said Quentin to himself, "but he must run faster
yet, to escape the fleetest foot that ever pressed the heather of Glen
Houlakin!"

Being fortunately without his cloak and armour, the Scottish mountaineer
was at liberty to put forth a speed which was unrivalled in his own
glens, and which, notwithstanding the rate at which the Bohemian ran,
was likely soon to bring his pursuer up with him. This was not,
however, Quentin's object, for he considered it more essential to watch
Hayraddin's motions, than to interrupt them. He was the rather led to
this by the steadiness with which the Bohemian directed his course, and
which, continuing even