"Thou shalt have the lanthorn. See thou keep’st thy promise." The lantern was brought, and bearing it high up with his left hand, and holding his sword in his right, Edgar returned along the way he had come, searching for any trace of lurking foes. He encountered none until he had nearly reached the broken door, but here he found them gathered in force, and had to make another attack. His determined front and darting sword, however, quickly cowed the men, and after a very short struggle they gave back, and, rushing for the door, fought their way out in absolute panic. Edgar did not trouble to follow up his advantage, but contented himself with placing his lantern where its light would shine upon the broken door, sitting down himself in a shadow and resting, while he watched and listened. Half an hour passed away without any change. He could tell his pursuers still lurked outside, but not once did they dare to return to the attack. Then he heard cries of alarm and the sound of rapid footsteps. A moment or two later a face appeared at the broken door, and he recognized the merchant. "Is all well within?" he called breathlessly. "All is well," cried Edgar, coming forward. "God be praised!" cried the merchant in a voice of deep relief. "I have brought an officer and ten men, and at the sight of us the vagabonds made off." "’Tis well. We are safe from attack now." "Did the ruffians molest thee?" "Nay. And now, sir, I must make the best of my way back to my home at Castle Wolsingham without loss of time. But before I go I pray thee forgive me for the alarm I have caused thee and the ladies of thy household. Thou know’st ’twas all done in the heat and extremity of the moment, and wilt excuse my thoughtlessness." "I cannot regret aught that has gained me the acquaintance of one so gallant," cried the merchant warmly. "Come with me, for I am sure the ladies will desire an opportunity to thank thee for themselves." The gratitude of the merchant and his wife and daughters, now that their alarm had subsided, was very great, and they united in praising Edgar for what they termed his bravery. But Edgar laughed at them, and would have no such term applied to what he called an afternoon’s useful practice with the sword. One destined to the trade of arms, he disclaimed banteringly, must regard such a brush as of no more moment than the merchant’s assistants did the measuring of a bale of cloth. But the merchant’s daughters would not be denied, and showed their admiration of the young esquire by pressing food and dainties upon him, and by washing and tending the cripple lad, the unhappy cause of all the disturbance.