Sprinting madly for the distance of something near an eighth of a league, he dismounted and led his tired horse within the shadows of a thick wood, fringing the highway to the northward. Tethering him to a tree at a safe distance from the road, he then retraced his way rapidly but cautiously toward the juncture of the two highroads. Purposing through this simple stratagem, should chance favor him, to have a look at his pursuing enemies. The young knight enjoyed a quiet laugh at his own expense when he discovered that his flying battalion of horsemen had narrowed down to one, and that one, de Claverlok. His rugged profile was set fair against the enormous face of the moon, as he drew to a stand not above a dozen feet from where Sir Richard lay concealed. Distinctly the young knight could see his grizzled head, a silhouette of black against a yellow circle, showing as clear and clean cut as a finely chiseled statue. It was easy to gather that de Claverlok was in two minds whether to go straight ahead, or to turn to his left into the forking roadway. Now he was inclining his head in a listening attitude. From away in the distance, and ever so faintly, came the clatter of the galloping hoofs of a single horseman. This sound set an instant period to the grizzled knight's perplexity. Forthwith he turned his charger's head straight to the northward, and in a flash was spurring furiously from the vicinity of the bushes where Sir Richard lay hidden. Keeping well in the brush, the young knight waited till the noise of de Claverlok's flight had merged within the solemn quiet of the night; then, returning to where he had tethered his horse, he led him to the highway, mounted, and, after somewhat of a less impetuous fashion than before again resumed his lonely journey. He had ample leisure thereafter to indulge himself in meditation. Indeed the young knight was enjoying his first quiet interval since his entrance into the Red Tavern and his meeting with Tyrrell, whom he still regarded as nothing more than a most extraordinary inn-keeper. Again his mind reverted to the maiden; he recalled with a thrill of pleasure her soft whisper, and the kiss through the wall. He thought of the bit of cloth and the note, and immediately grew less lonely than before. They yielded him a sweet companionship that he was quite willing to accept without attempting to define. Through his ardent maze of speculation, however, Nature obtruded with her realities, and he became conscious of the keen, frost-laden air, and of his fatigue and hunger. He was ready to admit that the twinkling lights of an inn would have afforded him a most welcome and agreeable sight.