The fellow stopped in his tracks. He shot a glance over my shoulder to the back of the room. I swung the dagger in the air with the thought that if I forced him from the door, I might escape. But my arm was hardly half way around when a sharp crack caught me on the wrist. The pain shot through me like the cutting of a knife. I loosed my grasp. The dagger flew across the room and fell clattering onto the wooden floor. In the next breath my arms were caught from behind. They were pinned together with the firmness of a vise. A foot shot out and entangled itself in mine. A quick twist and I was jerked sideways and sent tumbling like the dagger across the room. I was stunned from the force of the fall. I got slowly up on one elbow and looked dazedly around. The fire was dancing as though it mocked me. I laid my hand on my hip where it hurt me most. My fingers fumbled aimlessly somehow or other around my pocket. I was so stupefied that I was hardly conscious of what I was doing. My thumb and forefinger touched the bit of parchment which the King of the Birds had given me. I drew it out. By good fortune my assailants were at my back. I unfolded it more by habit than by purpose. When it lay open before the light of the blazing wood I was amazed to read a warning that had come altogether too late: “Avoid the house in the woods!” With nervous fingers I put the parchment back again. The one fellow who had faced me first came over and jerked me roughly to my feet. Then, as though I were a log, shoved me back until I fell into the chair. “Where did you get that dagger?” he demanded. He had picked the weapon from the floor and had thrown it on the table. “I took it from a man on the road,” said I. “Was it a short fellow—a churchman—dressed like an Abbot?” he asked further. I was loath to give these rascals more information than was good for them so my answer was as short as I could make it. “I don’t know whether he was an Abbot or not,” I said. “I couldn’t tell.” They looked at each other in alarm. “If he’s in the neighborhood,” said the first, “we’d better get out.” The other came forward into the light of the fire. His hand was bandaged with a strip of an old shirt and the blood was caked where it had oozed through and hardened. “Do you know me?” he asked. “You tried to kill me in the woods,” I said, without lifting my eyes. “Do you see this?” he went on. I looked at his hand. “It’s cut to the bone,” he said, threateningly. “It’ll take weeks for it to heal.” He narrowed his eyes till they were mere slits and studied me. “You’re going to pay for this, do you hear?” I said nothing, but looked helplessly around. The first fellow had his gaze upon the floor. He was worried, that I plainly saw. Then, after a little, he touched this fellow on the shoulder. “Let’s put him out of the way,” he said, glancing towards me. “If we’re caught here, we’ll be in a trap ourselves.” They were both willing, but still some doubt held them in leash.