at all.

"Which of you was it who slew him?" asked Owen.

"None of us, Lord. We cannot tell who it may have been. Even the
sentry who keeps this beat is gone."

"Doubtless it was he who slew him, and is himself wounded in the
fosse. Look for him straightway."

There they hunted, but the man was not to be found. Nor was it his
weapon that had ended Tregoz.

Then Owen said in a voice that had grown very stern: "Who was the
sentry who should have been here?"

The men looked at one another, and the chief of them answered at
last that the man was from Dartmoor, one of such a name. And then
one looked more closely at the arms Tregoz wore, and cried out that
they were the very arms of the missing sentry, or so like them that
one must wait for daylight to say for certain that they were not
they.

It was plain enough then. In such arms Tregoz could well walk
through the village itself unnoticed, as one of the palace guards
would be, and so when the time came he would climb from some hiding
in the fosse and take the place of his countryman on the rampart,
and the watchful captain would see but a sentry there and deem that
all was well.