My hint fell flat. In a kind of running walk he caught up to me and said, “That’s fine. We’ll go together.” I would have run away had I been able. Why was I to be bothered by a man who was nothing but a nuisance and a pest? I tried to think of one excuse or other to rid myself of him. None came, so for the while I made the best of it. We went on in silence. He had his head in the air looking brightly about. I had mine down for I hated even the sight of his face. After a little he made a jab or two but they failed. When he saw that his nonsense was of no purpose he turned serious and prodded me with all kinds of questions. He showed an interest in the extent of our land. In a sly way he got out of me how far it ran and what crops it bore. Then he mentioned the old Count of Gramont and the size of his estates. He touched on the strength of his castle on the hill—the number of men which he kept under arms—the revenues that came from his possessions in the valley and what wealth he was said to have. You may be sure that I told him as little as I could. In some respects I was as good a play-actor as he, for to most of his questionings I had but one stupid answer, “I don’t know.” If it was his intention to treat me like a dunce, I was more than willing to act the part of one. Finally a fresh thought came to me. I halted of a sudden and stepped away from him. “I’ve changed my mind,” I said. “I’m not going to the armorer’s. I’m going through the woods.” He let his arms fall to his sides. “—through the woods?” he asked. “Why?” His eyes narrowed in suspicion. “I had an accident there last night,” I replied. “I should like to see what became of a certain man.” He rolled his eyes as though he was thinking—trying to measure me in his mind. “What’s your game, Henri?” he asked. His voice was low but I felt a threat lurking in it. I began to explain. “You see, as I was coming home last night, I happened upon two men who were quarreling in the woods,” said I, watching his face closely. “Yes,” he answered. “The one got the better of the other,” I went on, “and the man who lost was tied by the victor to a tree.” He did not change his expression, but looked steadily into my eyes. “Dead?” he demanded. “No. Alive.” The breath came back to him. He tried not to show it but a faint smile of satisfaction played around his mouth. “I understand you now, Henri,” he went on. “You have a good heart. If he is still there, you want to set him free.” With that he clapped my arm under his as he had done just before breakfast. With a little more hurry than was necessary he made with me towards the woods. I led him to the spot where I thought the man was lashed to the tree. But the only trace of him we found was a length of rope. It was frayed and worn at the ends. No doubt he had set himself free by hours of rubbing against the rough bark. The ground about the trunk was stamped and torn as though by the marching of a hundred feet.