Denys was surprised at this: but did not interfere; for it suited his immediate purpose. A couple of archers were inspecting the Abbot's body, turning it half over with their feet, and inquiring, "Which of the two had flung this enormous rogue down from an upper story like that; they would fain have the trick of his arm." Denys at first pished and pshawed, but he dared not play the braggart, for he said to himself "That young vagabond will break in and say 'twas the finger of Heaven, and no mortal arm, or some such stuff, and make me look like a fool." But now, seeing Gerard unconscious, he suddenly gave this required information: "Well, then, you see, comrades, I had run my sword through this one up to the hilt; and one or two more of 'em came buzzing about me; so it behoved me have my sword or die: so I just put my foot against his stomach, gave a tug with my hand and a spring with my foot, and sent him flying to kingdom come! He died in the air, and his carrion rolled in amongst you without ceremony: made you jump I warrant me. But pikestaves and pillage! what avails prattling of these trifles once they are gone by? buvons, camarades, buvons." The archers remarked that it was easy to say "buvons" where no liquor was, but not so easy to do it. "Nay, I'll soon find ye liquor. My nose hath a natural alacrity at scenting out the wine. You follow me: and I my nose: bring a torch!" And they left the room, and, finding a short flight of stone steps, descended them and entered a large, low, damp cellar. It smelt close and dank: and the walls were encrusted here and there with what seemed cobwebs; but proved to be saltpetre that had oozed out of the damp stones, and crystallized. "Oh! the fine mouldy smell," said Denys. "In such placen still lurks the good wine: advance thy torch. Diable! what is that in the corner? A pile of rags? No: 'tis a man." They gathered round with the torch, and lo! a figure crouched on a heap in the corner, pale as ashes and shivering. "Why, it is the landlord," said Denys. "Get up, thou craven heart!" shouted one of the archers. "Why, man, the thieves are bound, and we are dry, that bound them. Up! and show us thy wine; for no bottles see I here." "What, be the rascals bound?" stammered the pale landlord; "good news. W--w--wine? that will I, honest sirs." And he rose with unsure joints and offered to lead the way to the wine cellar. But Denys interposed. "You are all in the dark, comrades. He is in league with the thieves." "Alack, good soldier, me in league with the accursed robbers! Is that reasonable?" "The girl said so any way." "The girl! What girl? Ah! Curse her, traitress!" "Well," interposed the other archer; "the girl is not here, but gone on to the bailiff. So let the burghers settle whether this craven be guilty or no: for we caught him not in the act: and let him draw us our wine." "One moment," said Denys, shrewdly. "Why cursed he the girl? If he be a true man, he should bless her as we do."