and battle, struck Dick upon the shoulder
with one hand, while with the other he twitched away his garment.
Thereupon the full wrath of the young leader burst from his control. He
seized the fellow in his strong embrace, and crushed him on the plates of
his mailed bosom like a child; then, holding him at arm's length, he bid
him speak as he valued life.

"I pray you mercy!" gasped the archer. "An I had thought ye were so
angry I would 'a' been charier of crossing you. I was here indeed."

"Know ye Sir Daniel?" pursued Dick.

"Well do I know him," returned the man.

"Was he in the mansion?"

"Ay, sir, he was," answered the archer; "but even as we entered by the
yard gate he rode forth by the garden."

"Alone?" cried Dick.

"He may 'a' had a score of lances with him," said the man.

"Lances! No women, then?" asked Shelton.

"Troth, I saw not," said the archer. "But there were none in the house,
if that be your quest."

"I thank you," said Dick. "Here is a piece for your pains." But groping
in his wallet, Dick found nothing. "Inquire for me to-morrow," he
added--"Richard Shelt--Sir Richard Shelton," he corrected, "and I will
see you handsomely rewarded."

And then an idea struck Dick. He hastily descended to the courtyard, ran
with all his might across the garden, and came to the great door of the
church. It stood wide open; within, every corner of the pavement was
crowded with fugitive burghers, surrounded by their families and laden
with the most precious of their possessions, while, at the high altar,
priests in full canonicals were imploring the mercy of God. Even as Dick
entered, the loud chorus began to thunder in the vaulted roofs.

He hurried through the groups of refugees, and came to the door of the
stair that led into the steeple. And here a tall churchman stepped
before him and arrested his advance.

"Whither, my son?" he asked, severely.

"My father," answered Dick, "I am here upon an errand of expedition.
Stay me not. I command here for my Lord of Gloucester."

"For my Lord of Gloucester?" repeated the priest. "Hath, then, the
battle gone so sore?"

"The battle, father, is at an end, Lancaster clean sped, my Lord of
Risingham--Heaven rest him!--left upon the field. And now, with your
good leave, I follow mine affairs." And thrusting on one side the
priest, who seemed stupefied at the news, Dick pushed open the door and
rattled up the stairs four at a bound, and without paus