As the shades of evening crept silently on, and the cooler air began to assert itself over the torrid atmosphere of the day, Sir Everard Crowleigh opened the campaign on behalf of his companion by suggesting that a walk would not only be refreshing to the two maidens, but also positively beneficial.  “I don’t pretend to know much of the skill of the leech,” he added, “but I think that fresh country air is the finest physic out for young ladies, both for health and beauty too.”

“And maybe ’tis good for gentlemen as well,” laughed Dorothy.

“It is the true elixir of life, for which the alchemysts labour in vain to find,” exclaimed Manners.  “Sir Benedict knows leechcraft, let us take his opinion upon its merits.

“Nay,” laughingly responded Margaret, “Cousin Benedict, I fear, is too much engaged in other affairs to attend to us just now.”

“Why, how?” asked Crowleigh in surprise, “surely no one would be ungallant enough not to lend their services to two such fair maidens.  Never!  I cannot conceive it.”

“Margaret means,” interposed Dorothy, “that he has been taking too much wine again, and then he goes wandering about the cellars and passages until he falls down and goes to sleep.  Nobody takes any notice of him now, though, we have all got too familiar with his ways.”

“Well, we will go,” decided the elder sister, “but which way—­north, south, east, or west?  Bakewell, Rowsley, or where?  Let us determine quickly, for it will soon be dark.”

“We are at your service,” gallantly responded John Manners.  “Any way will suit us equally well.”  Certainly, provided that the walk was long enough, the direction they should take was of little importance to him.  He had a more important matter on his mind.

“Let it be Rowsley way, Margaret,” asked Dorothy.

“Well, then,” she agreed, “we will say Rowsley, ’tis a pretty walk; but we might first see our venerable protector in safety, then nothing could be nicer.  Follow me, brave gentlemen,” said Margaret, and the two girls led the way through the banqueting-room and down the stone-flagged passage into the capacious wine cellar below.

Benedict was not there, but it was evident, from signs which could not be mistaken, that he had been there shortly before.  All the neighbouring cellars were thoroughly explored, but to no purpose; he could not be discovered, and, finding that he had just been seen in the vicinity of the old archer’s room, they turned their feet in that direction, only to find themselves once more baffled when they arrived there.

“No, your ladyships,” replied the serving-maid, in answer to their inquiry, “he has gone again just now; you will be sure to find him in the kitchen, though.”

“’Tis as good as a badger hunt,” laughed Crowleigh, as they trailed into the kitchen again, “but prithee, fair mistress, what shall we gain by discovering the august knight?”