“You see, gentlemen,” said Falstaff, appealing to the devastation on either hand, “to what they have reduced me.” There could be no harm in Jack’s assuming right of property in the defunct Ballard’s possessions. In the first place, those possessions were no longer particularly worth having. In the second, it were unreasonable to suppose that their late proprietor could possibly have any further use for them. The Fleming and the Lombard felt extremely sorry for their unfortunate guide and debtor. Nay; they even hoped that, in the upshot of things, he might prove still to be in the possession of something valuable, as an excuse for their assisting him with further advances. As they neared the Falstaff Valley, Jack’s uneasiness increased visibly. “It is my home, gentlemen,” he explained, “where I first saw light.* It may be that they have spared me that. I scarcely dare hope it. But we shall know anon.” * See Book I. Chapter I. in explanation of this glaring breach of veracity. They reached the summit of the hill overlooking the valley,--down which, fourteen years ago, Sir Thomas Mowbray, now Earl of Nottingham, had come, laughing and cantering with his friend Maître Jean, the Chronicler, now curé of Lestines, and a most respectable clergyman. Falstaff gave a rapid glance in the direction of his paternal mansion, then drew a long breath. “Enough! I know the worst,” he said; and seemed all the easier for the knowledge. Not a trace of Falstaff Castle was standing except William of Wykeham’s Tower. The rest was mere smouldering dunghill. Bardolph had been spared the crime of arson. The rebels had been before him. He had found the castle in the state I have described it, and---- Master Lambert, the Reve, hanging by the heels from a beech tree, with his skull cleft. The travellers discovered the faithful messenger contemplating this edifying spectacle with mingled philosophy and satisfaction. At the sight of the steward’s corpse Falstaff uttered a piercing cry, and fled. “Follow him!” cried Bardolph, eagerly (he had caught and appreciated a flying wink from his broken-hearted patron), “or he will do himself a mischief.” The ruined landowner, after some search, was discovered in the orchard with his girdle slung to the arm of a pear tree. Into a noose, at the nether extremity of this, he was about to slip his neck, when his privacy was invaded. The rescuing party uttered a cry of thanksgiving for their timely arrival. They needed not to have hurried themselves. Our hero’s inherent good breeding would have induced him to wait for them under any circumstances. The merchants tried verbal consolation.