s, and Cuthbert threw him a small coin.

A sudden thought struck him as he heard a rustling in the bushes near.

"Which is the nearest and best road to Avignon?" he said.

"The right-hand road is the best and shortest," the beggar said. "The
other makes a long circuit, and leads through several marshes, which your
honour will find it hard to pass."

Cuthbert thanked him, and moved forward, still at a walk, along the
right-hand road.

When he had gone about 200 yards, and was hidden from the sight of the
man he had left--the country being rough, and scattered with clumps of
bushes--he halted, and, as he expected, heard the sound of horses' hoofs
coming on at full gallop along the other road.

"Your master must have thought me young indeed," he said, "to try and
catch me with such a transparent trick as that. I do not suppose that
accursed page has more than ten men with him, and doubtless has placed
five on each road. This fellow was placed here to see which track I would
follow, and has now gone to give the party on the left hand the news that
I have taken this way. Had it not been for him I should have had to run
the gauntlet with four or five of my enemies. As it is, the path will
doubtless be clear."

So saying, he turned his horse, galloped back to the spot where the
tracks separated, and then followed the left-hand route.

As he had hoped, he passed through the wood without incident or
interruption, and arrived safely that night at a small town, having seen
no signs of his enemies.

The next day he started again early, and rode on until mid-day, when he
halted at a large village, at which was the only inn between the place
from which he started and his destination. He declined the offer of the
servant of the inn to take his horse round to the stable, telling the
man to hold him outside the door and give him from a sieve a few
handfuls of grain.

Then he entered the inn and ate a hearty meal. As he appeared at the
door, he saw several men gathered near. With a single spring he threw
himself into the saddle, just as a rush forward was made by those
standing round. The man next to him sprang upon him, and endeavoured to
drag him from the saddle. Cuthbert drew the little dagger called a
Mis,ricorde from his belt, and plunged it into his throat. Then seizing
the short mace which hung at the saddle bow, he hurled it with all his
force full in the face of his enemy, the page of Sir Philip, who was
rushing upon