The Knight tossed it to him.

“Thank you . . . a handsome bit of craftsmanship . . . these stones are true ones, n’est ce pas?”

“If they are not, I was cheated in the price,” De Lacy laughed.

The other examined it critically.

“Methinks you were not cheated,” he said, and drew it through his belt.  “And would your lordship also permit me a closer view of the fine gold chain that hangs around your neck?”

De Lacy took it off and flung it over.

“It I will warrant true,” he said.

The outlaw weighed the links in his hand, then bit one testingly.

“So will I,” said he, and dropped the chain in his pouch.

“And the ring with the ruby—­it is a ruby, is it not?—­may I also examine it? . . .  I am very fond of rubies. . .  Thank you; you are most obliging. . .  It seems to be an especially fine stone—­and worth . . . how many rose nobles would you say, my lord?”

“I am truly sorry I cannot aid you there,” De Lacy answered; “being neither a merchant nor a robber, I have never reckoned its value.”

The other smiled.  “Of course, by ‘merchant,’ your worship has no reference to my good comrades nor myself.”

“None whatever, I assure you.”

“Thank you; I did not think you would be so discourteous. . .  But touching money reminds me that doubtless there is some such about you—­perhaps you will permit me to count it for you.”

The Knight drew out a handful of coins.  “Will you have them one by one or all together?” he asked.

“All together; on the turf beside you, if you please. . .  Thank you. . .  And do you know, Sir Aymer, I am vastly taken with the short gown of velvet and sable—­you brought it from France, I assume; the fashion smacks of the Continent.  I would like much to have your opinion as to how it looks on me—­we are rather of a size, I take it—­though I shall have to forego the pleasure of the opinion until another day. . .  And now that I can see your doublet, I am enamoured also of it—­will you lend it to me for a little while?  Truly, my lord, I mind never to have seen a handsomer, or one that caught my fancy more.”

De Lacy looked again at the archers and their ready bows.

“St. Denis, fellow,” he said, “leave me enough clothes to return to the castle.”

“God forbid,” exclaimed the bandit, “that I should put a gallant gentleman to any such embarrassment—­but you must admit it were a shame to have gown and doublet and yet no bonnet to match them. . .”

The Knight took it off and sent it spinning toward him.

“Note the feather,” he said.  “It is rarely long and heavy.”

“I observed that yesterday,” was the merry response.

“Is there anything else about me you care for?” De Lacy asked.

“Nothing—­unless you could give me your rarely generous disposition.  Methinks I never met a more obliging gentleman.”