class="pnext">Softly Edgar pressed his companion in the side. He stirred ever so slightly, and Edgar pressed again as meaningly as he could. He felt the soldier start and stiffen himself as though on the alert.

Waiting for no more, Edgar, who was light of touch and supple as an eel, stole softly from the bed and made for the corner of the room away from the window. He dreaded unspeakably that he might come into contact with something--he knew not what--on the way; but he reached his coign of vantage without mishap. Then he waited motionless for events to develop. Though he still heard no sound, he felt even more convinced than before that the room was occupied by other than themselves--and, by the strange feeling of fear that he could not thrust away from himself, thoroughly as he despised it, occupied by something grim and terrible.

Presently he heard a slight rustling, as though Matthew were leaving his bed, and a moment later the curtain was jerked back, admitting into the room a stream of moonlight.

Simultaneously with the pulling of the curtain three figures became visible to Edgar between him and the light. The upright figure nearest to the window was Matthew, he had no doubt, but the two other figures crouching low upon the floor he could not recognize, though the glint of steel he caught from one showed that their presence boded ill indeed.

Silently, with a bound fierce as a tiger's, one of the men sprang upon Matthew. With a movement as quick the man-at-arms avoided the blow aimed at him and closed with his assailant. Simultaneously the other man stood up and swung a club up into the air and down behind his back as he prepared to strike down Matthew while he grappled with his foe.

With the speed of an arrow Edgar sprang forward. Seizing the club he gave it a quick, wrenching pull and tore it from the man's grasp. Then as quickly he swung it heavily down upon the assassin's head. With a groan the man sank limply to the floor.

Turning to the other combatants, Edgar saw that Matthew was holding his assailant's right hand with his left, and had wrenched his own hand free and grasped his dagger. There was a flash as the moonlight gleamed upon the bright steel, then the stroke fell heavily upon the ruffian's side. But though the blade pierced his clothing it snapped off short against his skin!

"Bewitched! Bewitched!" shrieked Matthew in superstitious terror, as he let go his hold and fell upon his knees. Babbling incoherently and crossing himself convulsively, he seemed oblivious of his fearful danger. Fortunately the suddenness with which he had let go his hold sent the ruffian staggering back into a corner, but like a wild cat he was back again, and in another moment the knife must have been plunged into Matthew's body had not Edgar screamed piercingly as he dashed forward.

"Shirt of mail, Matthew, shirt of mail!"

Matthew heard and understood his meaning just in time. Plunging full length upon the floor, he avoided the murderous stroke, and the man, in the darkness, pitched over him into the wall. Ere he had recovered from the shock Edgar had sprung clean upon his back.

Jabbing behind him with his knife the assassin tried to dislodge the lad, but although he received two or three flesh wounds, Edgar clung on tenaciously, and, by impeding the man's arm with one hand and gripping him by the throat with the other, did his best to hinder him, while he called repeatedly upon Matthew to renew the struggle.

It was some moments before Matthew could respond. He was still unnerved by the grim midnight attack and what he had for the moment taken to be the supernatural character of his assailant. Edgar's warning cry had enabled him to shake off some of his paralysis, but precious moments had slipped away before he was himself again. At last Edgar's cries aroused him, and he rushed in and closed with the man, who was endeavouring with the utmost desperation to rid himself of the burden upon his back. Until then the man had fought in grim silence, but now he snarled and champed like a wild beast. In one of his twists and turns he staggered close to the little window, and for a moment the moonlight played upon his head. Though Edgar, from his position, could not see his face, one glimpse of the tangled mass of hair was sufficient. It was red.

The ruffian fought with extraordinary fierceness and power. Once Matthew succeeded in possessing himself of his knife, but almost immediately lost it, and it was not until the man was almost strangled that his resistance was overcome.

"Get me something wherewith to secure him, Edgar," gasped Matthew. "Strips of clothing--anything, lad."

Edgar sprang to the bed and fumbled among the rugs and skins for something that he could tear into strips. As he did so his ear caught a sound outside the door that could not be mistaken.

"Quick, Matthew--to the window--flee!" he cried, in an undertone that thrilled with desperate urgency. "The stairs creak beneath the tread of a dozen stealthy feet. 'Tis Red's band--away, away, or we are lost!"

At a single bound Matthew sprang halfway through the window. Another moment and he had dropped to the ground.

In his fumbles at the bedclothes Edgar's hand had come into contact with his own or Matthew's sword. The slight indefinable sound or feeling of pressure upon the door attracted his attention, and, like a streak, he drew the sword from its sheath. Then, with a single thrust, he drove it several inches through the centre of the door.

There was a screech, and the pressure instantly ceased. Simultaneously the silent approach changed into a loud and angry clamour, and a rush was made at the door, and it was kicked violently open.

But Edgar was already halfway to the window. Flinging his naked sword through in advance, he sprang lightly up and through, and dropped safely down upon the ground beneath.

Matthew was awaiting him and had already snatched up the sword, and the two, with a single thought, rushed madly round to the front of the farmhouse. Their one aim was to get their horse from the stable before the robbers were upon them.

As he rounded the side of the house, Edgar caught a glimpse of something moving in the shadow of some trees a dozen paces away. He looked again--they were horses!--and with a whoop he called to Matthew and fled to them. The horses were half-wild, and at the sudden approach reared and kicked furiously.

There was no time to sooth and pacify the beasts, for already the shouts from behind showed that the pursuit had begun, so Edgar sprang recklessly at the nearest horse, flung his leg over its back, and grasped it by the mane. Then with his dagger he cut the rope that secured it. The horse reared madly and backed in amongst its fellows, but at every opportunity Edgar cut and slashed with his dagger at the ropes that fastened the other horses to the trees. Matthew had also succeeded in mounting, and seconded his efforts until all were freed. Then with a yell that sent the frightened troop clattering away into the darkness, Edgar and Matthew dug their heels into their horses' sides and galloped headlong after them. In a confused clump, horsemen and riderless horses careered over pasture and farmland until the farmhouse and the shouting robbers had been left far