ly, so do
not hesitate to advise me at any time."

Raynor Royk dropped back to resume his place; then quickly turned: "Two
horsemen gallop after us, my lord."

De Lacy reined around and raised his arm for the column to halt.

"They wear armor," said he, "but I discern no jupon."

Raynor Royk shook his head. "The corselets shine plain, but methinks
it is Sir Ralph de Wilton in front."

"Aye, it is Sir Ralph!" Dauvrey exclaimed, "or I know not a man's seat
in saddle."

De Lacy rode back to greet him.

"Did you come from London at that pace, Ralph?" he asked as they met.

"Nay, only from Pontefract to overtake you."

"You have news of the Countess?"

"Alas, no. I reached Pontefract town from London last night, but too
late to report at the castle before morning. . . Now, His Majesty can
wait until we have found Beatrix. I ride with you, my friend."

De Lacy put out his hand and De Wilton reached over and took it; and in
the firm grip of their fingers was the confession of the one and the
sympathetic appreciation of the other.

"We will save her, never fear," Sir Ralph said. Then his eyes fell on
the ring. "By St. George, The Boar! I salute you--for even though you
are not the King, still are you almost as powerful. Whoever wears that
ring has all but the title--aye, and more--he has the King's enemies as
well as his own."

"And me a stranger!" De Lacy observed tersely.

"Aye, and what with that, and the Ring, and the Countess, your life is
not worth a third that mine is."

"It is worth absolutely nothing to me unless Beatrix be found alive."

"Pardieu! her life is in no danger. At the most, she will be held only
for ransom."

"Heaven grant it! though I fear the plot is more deeply laid."

"In that case, my dear De Lacy, when she is rescued let the Church work
quickly its sacrament upon you; there will be less temptation then to
carry her off."

"Yonder, my lord, lies the way to the Hermit's Cell," came the voice of
Raynor Royk.

Under the oaks and beeches whose gnarled and twisted arms overlapped
the path the column bent its course; and as it wound along the narrow
way, the shafts of sunlight, breaking through the leaves, rippled over
the steel casquetels and trappings until it was as if a rivulet had
suddenly gushed forth and was flowing down this forest by-path.

The Hermit's Cell was tenantless. The door had rotted from its
fastenings and lay athwart the entrance. The roof was falle