e bears no arms."

He did not answer at once and her heart rose in her breast as it filled
with the hope that her brave rescuer might be the same Roger de Conde
who had saved her from the hirelings of Peter of Colfax but a few short
weeks since. Surely it was the same straight and mighty figure, and
there was the marvelous swordplay as well. It must be he, and yet Roger
de Conde had spoken no English while this man spoke it well, though, it
was true, with a slight French accent.

"My Lady Bertrade, I be Norman of Torn," said the visored knight with
quiet dignity.

The girl's heart sank, and a feeling of cold fear crept through her. For
years that name had been the symbol of fierce cruelty, and mad hatred
against her kind. Little children were frightened into obedience by the
vaguest hint that the Devil of Torn would get them, and grown men had
come to whisper the name with grim, set lips.

"Norman of Torn!" she whispered. "May God have mercy on my soul!"

Beneath the visored helm, a wave of pain and sorrow surged across
the countenance of the outlaw, and a little shudder, as of a chill of
hopelessness, shook his giant frame.

"You need not fear, My Lady," he said sadly. "You shall be in your
father's castle of Leicester ere the sun marks noon. And you will be
safer under the protection of the hated Devil of Torn than with your own
mighty father, or your royal uncle."

"It is said that you never lie, Norman of Torn," spoke the girl, "and I
believe you, but tell me why you thus befriend a De Montfort."

"It is not for love of your father or your brothers, nor yet hatred of
Peter of Colfax, nor neither for any reward whatsoever. It pleases me to
do as I do, that is all. Come."

He led her in silence to the courtyard and across the lowered
drawbridge, to where they soon discovered a group of horsemen, and in
answer to a low challenge from Shandy, Norman of Torn replied that it
was he.

"Take a dozen men, Shandy, and search yon hellhole. Bring out to me,
alive, Peter of Colfax, and My Lady's cloak and a palfrey--and Shandy,
when all is done as I say, you may apply the torch! But no looting,
Shandy."

Shandy looked in surprise upon his leader, for the torch had never been
a weapon of Norman of Torn, while loot, if not always the prime object
of his many raids, was at least a very important consideration.

The outlaw noticed the surprised hesitation of his faithful subaltern
and signing him to listen, said:

"