Pierre promised to take the clothes to Marmaduke Hall within the hour. I left him engaged busily in his shop, and rode forth into the town in order to acquaint myself as perfectly as possible with the crooked streets. I had occupied enough time in this examination of the city when I turned my steps homeward. I was walking my horse slowly up the steep hill of Petticoat Lane when I heard a cry of distress ahead of me. Three men were having a sharp scuffle over the possession of a bundle. One of the men was Pierre, and I knew the bundle must be my disguise. I must protect it at all hazards, for each of the other two wore the red band upon his sleeve. I dashed spurs into my horse’s side. In two minutes I had ridden down one of the men, and with a blow of my fist sent the other sprawling in the mud. Pierre caught up the bundle and scuttled away so quickly that I hardly knew which way he had gone. I drew my sword and dismounted. “Get up,” I said sharply to the fellow I had knocked down—the other had already stumbled to his feet, but he was not good for much. “Get up,” I repeated, “or someone will think he has found the Red Band asleep.” He got upon his legs, grumbling and looking sourly at me. “Beware,” I said, as they turned away. “Eat your own word, beware.” This fellow was the very one who had defied me in Pierre’s shop. “Beware,” I called after him again, for they made such good use of their legs that by this time they were the width of the street away from me. When they were gone I continued my journey, much impressed by this example of their watchfulness. I was not cast down by it, however, though I mused so deeply on the event that I lost my way. Before I knew it, I found myself again in the center of the town. I took my bearings afresh and started back, this time meeting with no further confusions on the way. While passing the Ferry-House, I remembered that I had not returned there the night before to occupy the room I had engaged. I dismounted and entered the ordinary to find the landlord and settle my score. I was surprised to see Pierre at one of the tables drinking. As soon as I had settled the reckoning I went across the room to speak to him. “They didn’t see it,” he said significantly. “It is in your room and you can wear it safely”. He told me how he had been surprised and set upon suddenly in the street. “You were just like Lady Marmaduke coming along when I was ducked. That wine! Don’t tell me there is no such thing as luck!” I told Pierre that for the rest of the day he must hold himself in readiness to do my bidding. “Yes,” I answered to a question he asked. “Yes, it is against him, and you must keep yourself sober.” Pierre tilted up his tankard and began to pour the beer in a small stream upon the sanded floor. “I hate to let it go,” he said, disconsolately. “But if it is against him, I had rather keep sober.”