Meanwhile lanterns had been glimmering in the lower portion of the yard; men had been frantically shouting to each other, and their voices had mingled with the trampling of horses’ feet; and now, everything being ready, the fact was announced, and in a few minutes the cavalcade started out upon its expedition, determined not only to rescue the maiden, but also to administer a sharp and well-merited rebuke upon the faithless knight who had decoyed her away.

De la Zouch arrived at his castle soon after the party started from Haddon, and although he had failed to lull the Vernons into a false belief in his fidelity, yet he had put them on a wrong scent, and he congratulated himself inasmuch as he had left behind him no strong suspicion of the truth.

Simon Greenwood had retired to rest.  Sir Henry was not expected home so soon.  Indeed, he had told his chamberlain confidentially that if events progressed aright he should probably not return for a week or maybe more, and the sudden return of his lord found the worthy deputy in nowise prepared to meet him, and he had his good dame to thank that, inasmuch as she had deprived him of liquor sufficient to make him drunk, he was in no worse condition than he happened to be.

“Ha, Simon,” exclaimed the knight, as that functionary put in an appearance, “I am back again, you see.”

“Troth, and in good time, too, my lord.”

“Aye, I have come pretty quick, I assure you.  The birds are safe, eh?”

“Safe enough, I would stake my head on that.”

“That’s right, I knew I could trust you, Simon.  I am hungry though, and by all the saints in the calendar, I am sore and stiff as well.  I am injured, too, for my horse fell down with me and crushed my leg.”

“You look it, my lord, and worse,” exclaimed Dame Greenwood.  “You look badly hurt.”

“Ah, my own fault, my own fault; I have been a fool.  Eustace himself could not have ridden worse.  Where is Eustace, I have not seen him yet?”

Simon looked inquiringly at his better half, and to his discomfiture, she stolidly returned the glance.  Neither of them appeared to know anything of his whereabouts.  In the scuffle and worry of the time he had been forgotten, and they had to make the best defence they could.

“Methinks he is paying a visit to some fair damsel of the town, Sir Henry, with his dulcimer,” suggested the dame.  “I saw him with the music some while before the gates were closed.”

“He was prating this and that to me, my lord,” added Simon, who found his tongue at length, “until I threatened to whip him.  He sneaked away quick enough then, ha, ha!”

“Ha, ha!” laughed the knight, as he divested himself, with Simon’s aid, of his riding coat, “he would order thee about, eh?  But, by my faith, man, I am hungry, I swear.  I am quite ready to sup when I have seen my prisoners.”

Dame Greenwood took the hint and went out to procure the meal.  “Sir Henry is in wonderful good humour to-night,” she murmured, “and ’tis a good thing, too for Simon, that he is.  What a fool he would be without me,” and comforting herself with this reflection, she hastened to obey her lord’s behests.