Chapter 22 - Page 2

he turned tipsily along the corridor and proceeded to flounder
down-stairs, lurching against the wall.

So soon as he was out of sight, Dick returned to his hiding-place,
resolutely fixed to see the matter out. Wisdom, indeed, moved him
to be gone; but love and curiosity were stronger.

Time passed slowly for the young man, bolt upright behind the
arras. The fire in the room began to die down, and the lamp to
burn low and to smoke. And still there was no word of the return
of any one to these upper quarters of the house; still the faint
hum and clatter of the supper party sounded from far below; and
still, under the thick fall of the snow, Shoreby town lay silent
upon every side.

At length, however, feet and voices began to draw near upon the
stair; and presently after several of Sir Daniel's guests arrived
upon the landing, and, turning down the corridor, beheld the torn
arras and the body of the spy.

Some ran forward and some back, and all together began to cry
aloud.

At the sound of their cries, guests, men-at-arms, ladies, servants,
and, in a word, all the inhabitants of that great house, came
flying from every direction, and began to join their voices to the
tumult.

Soon a way was cleared, and Sir Daniel came forth in person,
followed by the bridegroom of the morrow, my Lord Shoreby.

"My lord," said Sir Daniel, "have I not told you of this knave
Black Arrow? To the proof, behold it! There it stands, and, by
the rood, my gossip, in a man of yours, or one that stole your
colours!"

"In good sooth, it was a man of mine," replied Lord Shoreby,
hanging back. "I would I had more such. He was keen as a beagle
and secret as a mole."

"Ay, gossip, truly?" asked Sir Daniel, keenly. "And what came he
smelling up so many stairs in my poor mansion? But he will smell
no more."

"An't please you, Sir Daniel," said one, "here is a paper written
upon with some matter, pinned upon his breast."

"Give it me, arrow and all," said the knight. And when he had
taken into his hand the shaft, he continued for some time to gaze
upon it in a sullen musing. "Ay," he said, addressing Lord
Shoreby, "here is a hate that followeth hard and close upon my
heels. This black stick, or its just likeness, shall yet bring me
down. And, gossip, suffer a plain knight to counsel you; and if
these hounds begin to wind you, flee! 'Tis like a sickness - it
still hangeth, hangeth upon the limbs. But let us see what they
have written. It is as I thought, my lord; y' are marked, like an
old oak, by the woodman; to-morrow or next day, by will come the
axe. But what wrote ye in a letter?"

Lord Shoreby snatched the paper from the arrow, read it, crumpled