Turning his horse round, and closely followed by his men, Gaston rode off in the direction pointed out by his servant.  It became plain that there had been fighting of some sort along this line, for a few dead and wounded soldiers, all Frenchmen, lay upon the ground at intervals.  Nothing, however, could be seen of Raymond, and for a while nothing of Roger either; but just as Gaston was beginning to despair of finding trace of either, he beheld in the bright moonlight a figure staggering along in a blind and helpless fashion towards them, and spurring rapidly forward to meet it, he saw that it was Roger.

Roger truly, but Roger in pitiable plight.  His armour was gone.  His doublet had been half stripped from off his back.  He was bleeding from more than one wound, and in his eyes was a fixed and glassy stare, like that of one walking in sleep.  His face was ghastly pale, and his breath came in quick sobs and gasps.

“Roger, is it thou?” cried Gaston, in accents of quick alarm.  “I have been seeking thee everywhere.  Where is thy master?  Where is my brother?”

“Gone! gone! gone!” cried Roger, in a strange and despairing voice.  “Carried off by his bitterest foes!  Gone where we shall never see him more!”

There was something in the aspect of the youth and in his lamentable words that sent an unwonted shiver through Gaston’s frame; but he was quick to recover himself, and answered hastily: 

“Boy, thou art distraught!  Tell me where my brother has gone.  I will after him and rescue him.  He cannot be very far away.  Quick —­ tell me what has befallen him!”

“He has been carried off —­ more I know not.  He has been carried off by foulest treachery.”

“Treachery!  Whose treachery?  Who has carried him off?”

“The knight of the Black Visor.”

“The Black Visor!  Nay; thou must be deceived thyself!  The Black Visor is one of our own company.”

“Ay verily, and that is why he succeeded where an open foe had failed.  None guessed with what purpose he came when he and his men pushed their way in a compact wedge, and sundered my young master from your side, sir, driving him farther and farther from all beside, till he and I (who had managed to keep close beside him) were far away from all the world beside, galloping as if for dear life in a different direction.  Then it was that they threw off the pretence of being friends —­ that they set upon him and overpowered him, that they beat off even me from holding myself near at hand, and carried me bound in another direction.  I was given in charge to four stalwart troopers, all wearing the black badge of their master.  They bound my bands and my feet, and bore me along I knew not whither.  I lost sight of my master.  Him they took at headlong speed in another direction.  I had been wounded in the battle.  I was wounded by these men, struggling to follow your brother.  I swooned in my saddle, and knew no more till a short hour ago, when I woke to find myself lying, still bound, upon a heap of straw in some outhouse of a farm.  I heard the voices of my captors singing snatches of songs not far away; but they were paying no heed to their captive, and I made shift to slacken my bonds and slip out into the darkness of the wood.