Fame was his. The Metcalfs, big on big horses, had captured the fancy of all England by their exploits in the open. Yet Blake, the messenger—riding alone for the most part, through perils that had no music of the battle-charge about them—had his own place, his claim to quick, affectionate regard wherever Cavaliers were met together. They laughed at his high, punctilious view of life, but they warmed to the knowledge that he had gone single-handed along tracks that asked for comrades on his right hand and his left. But this was unknown to Blake, who did not ask what men thought of him. It was enough for him to go doing his journeys, carrying a heartache till the end came and he was free to understand the why and wherefore of it all. It was a relief to see the moonlight blinking on the roofs of Banbury as he rode into the town. There were no nightingales here; instead, there was the hum and clamour of a Roundhead populace, infuriated by the news that two Cavaliers had broken prison in the early morning and had locked the gaoler in. Blake found his bridle seized roughly, and it was doubtful for a moment whether he or his high-spirited mare, or the two of them, would come to grief. "Well, friend?" he asked of the burly Puritan who held the bridle. "Your business here?" "To sell cloth. I come from Oxford, and have done much business there with the Court." "Then why come selling wares in Banbury? Court fashions find no favour here." "Cloth is cloth," said Blake impassively, "and I’ve some remnants going cheap." A woman in the crowd pressed forward. "How much the yard?" she asked. With his tired knowledge of the world, he named a price that made the woman ask eagerly for a sample. "I have no samples. The cloth itself will come in by carrier to-morrow. I’m tired and hungry," he said, smiling at the man who held his rein. "Perhaps you will direct me to a lodging for the night?" "Was there great stir among the sons of Belial in Oxford?" asked his captor, with a shrewd sideways glance. "They were like bees in a busy hive," assented Blake cheerily. "You learned something, maybe, of their plans?" "I did, friend." "That might be worth free lodging to you for the night, and a supper of the best. What did you learn?" "Why, that they planned to buy a good deal of my cloth. That’s how I measure a man—with the eye of a merchant who has cloth to sell. You, sir—your clothes are of the shabbiest, if you’ll pardon my frankness. Will you not come to the tavern to-morrow, after the carrier has brought my bales, and let me show you some good broadcloth—cloth of a sober colour, suited to the pious habits you profess? To-day I clothe a Cavalier, to-morrow a gentleman who fights on the Parliament side—a merchant knows no niceties of party."