a gallant foe whom in that case he still may meet.
(Signed) Hugh Lozelle, or Another."

"Another, then; not Hugh Lozelle," said Godwin, "since he cannot
write, and if he could, would never pen words so knightly."

"The words may be knightly, but the writer's deeds were base
enough," replied Sir Andrew; "nor, in truth do I understand this
scroll."

"The interpreter spoke of the short man as his master," suggested
Wulf.

"Ay, nephew; but him you met. This writing speaks of a master
whom Godwin may meet, and who would wish the writer to pay him a
certain honour."

"Perhaps he wrote thus to blind us."

"Perchance, perchance. The matter puzzles me. Moreover, of whom
these men were I have been able to learn nothing. A boat was seen
passing towards Bradwell--indeed, it seems that you saw it, and
that night a boat was seen sailing southwards down St. Peter's
sands towards a ship that had anchored off Foulness Point. But
what that ship was, whence she came, and whither she went, none
know, though the tidings of this fray have made some stir."

"Well," said Wulf, "at the least we have seen the last of her
crew of women-thieves. Had they meant more mischief, they would
have shown themselves again ere now."

Sir Andrew looked grave as he answered.

"So I trust, but all the tale is very strange. How came they to
know that you and Rosamund were riding that day to St.
Peter's-on-the-Wall, and so were able to waylay you? Surely some
spy must have warned them, since that they were no common pirates
is evident, for they spoke of Lozelle, and bade you two begone
unharmed, as it was Rosamund whom they needed. Also, there is the
matter of the sword that fell from the hand of Godwin when he was
hurt, which was returned in so strange a fashion. I have known
many such deeds of chivalry done in the East by Paynim men--"

"Well, Rosamund is half an Eastern," broke in Wulf carelessly;
"and perhaps that had something to do with it all."

Sir Andrew started, and the colour rose to his pale face. Then in
a tone in which he showed he wished to speak no more of this
matter, he said:

"Enough, enough. Godwin is very weak, and grows weary, and before
I leave him I have a word to say that it may please you both to
hear. Young men, you are of my blood, the nearest to it except
Rosamund--the sons of that noble knight, my brother. I have ever
loved you well, and been proud of you, but if this was so in the
past, how much more is it thus to