d ate hearty at the
board, I could not have carried this disguise, but the very dogs would
have spied us out and barked at us for shams."

He was by this time close to the window of the farm, and he rose on his
tip-toes and peeped in.

"Nay," he cried, "better and better. We shall here try our false faces
with a vengeance, and have a merry jest on Brother Capper to boot."

And so saying, he opened the door and led the way into the house.

Three of their own company sat at the table, greedily eating. Their
daggers, stuck beside them in the board, and the black and menacing
looks which they continued to shower upon the people of the house,
proved that they owed their entertainment rather to force than favour.
On the two monks, who now, with a sort of humble dignity, entered the
kitchen of the farm, they seemed to turn with a particular resentment;
and one--it was John Capper in person--who seemed to play the leading
part, instantly and rudely ordered them away.

"We want no beggars here!" he cried.

But another--although he was as far from recognising Dick and
Lawless--inclined to more moderate counsels.

"Not so," he cried. "We be strong men, and take; these be weak, and
crave; but in the latter end these shall be uppermost and we below. Mind
him not, my father; but come, drink of my cup, and give me a
benediction."

"Y'are men of a light mind, carnal, and accursed," said the monk. "Now,
may the saints forbid that ever I should drink with such companions! But
here, for the pity I bear to sinners, here I do leave you a blessed
relic, the which, for your souls' interest, I bid you kiss and cherish."

So far Lawless thundered upon them like a preaching friar; but with
these words he drew from under his robe a black arrow, tossed it on the
board in front of the three startled outlaws, turned in the same
instant, and, taking Dick along with him, was out of the room and out of
sight among the falling snow before they had time to utter a word or
move a finger.

"So," he said, "we have proved our false faces, Master Shelton. I will
now adventure my poor carcase where ye please."

"Good!" returned Richard. "It irks me to be doing. Set we on for
Shoreby!"

CHAPTER II

"IN MINE ENEMIES' HOUSE"

Sir Daniel's residence in Shoreby was a tall, commodious, plastered
mansion, framed in carven oak, and covered by a low-pitched roof of
thatch. To the back there stretched a garden, full of fruit-trees,
alleys, and