Robin hurried to secure the animal, a well-trained war-horse, which had stood quietly in the centre of the road, calmly awaiting the issue of the combat: he observed that the saddle was turned completely round, and hung under the belly. The horseman adjusted his cloak, wiped his sword with the square cape, and had just replaced it in the scabbard, when the Cavalier returned from his fruitless chase. As he advanced towards the person to whom he had rendered such signal service, he noted that he was a hale, stout man, probably past the meridian of life, of a stern and awe-striking presence; and an involuntary feeling of respect made him lift his hat from his head, and even remain uncovered while expressing hopes "that he had received no injury from the cowards who had thus beset his path." The other gave no reply to the inquiry, but fixed a shrewd and penetrating gaze upon the young man's countenance. Apparently the scrutiny pleased him, for he extended his hand, and seizing that of his preserver, held it firmly within his palm for about the space of a minute, then pressed it within his mailed grasp so strenuously, that the youth felt the blood tingle to his finger-ends. "I owe thanks and gratitude, and would fain know to whom: your name, young sir?" The Cavalier paused for a moment, and then said,-- "You may call me De Guerre--Walter De Guerre." "Walter De Guerre!--an English Christian wedded to a French surname!--'tis strange, but let it pass, let it pass: you have been an instrument in the gracious preserving of one who, though unworthy, is of some account; and instruments in the Lord's hand must be regarded. My companions had business in this neighbourhood, and had left me but a little time, when I was set upon by these cowards; but God is merciful, and inspired you with valour. And now, sir, whither wend ye? To Cecil Place?" "No, sir," replied De Guerre, pondering what he should answer, or how he should designate his present abode. "To the worshipful sheriff, Sir Michael Livesey, at Little Shurland? He must look to his ferry-warden and boatmen to prevent such villainies as have now occurred." "To none of these, sir," replied Walter; "in fact, I am a humble traveller, lodging at a humble hostelry not far from hence." During this dialogue, Robin had adjusted the saddle-girth, and led the horse to its master, who took the bridle from his hand, and held it, examining the girth as he spoke. Robin glided imperceptibly round to De Guerre's side, and standing behind him, pulled his sleeve, and whispered,-- "Don't tell him where." The intimation was, perhaps, not heard, certainly not heeded, for the young man added,-- "At the widow Hays'." "I bethink me; the house near East Church. It is called Nest--Nest--Nest--ay, Gull's Nest. 'Tis but a poor abode for one who bears a diamond-hilted sword, and bears it bravely too. An every-day person, Master De Guerre, would sell the diamonds and get a gayer lodging."