that knave Abbot--for your Lady's sake, Jeffrey. She'll reward you, and
so will God above."

The man thrust away purse and deeds in some deep pocket.

"How can I leave you to be butchered?" he muttered, grinding his teeth.

As the words left his lips he heard his master utter a gurgling sound,
and saw that an arrow, shot from behind, had pierced him through the
throat; saw, too, he who was skilled in war, that the wound was mortal.
Then he hesitated no longer.

"Christ rest you!" he said. "I'll do your bidding or die;" and, turning
his horse, he drove the rowels into its sides, causing it to bound away
like a deer.

For a moment the stricken Sir John watched him go. Then he ran out of
his cover, shaking his sword above his head--ran into the open moonlight
to draw the arrows. They came fast enough, but ere ever he fell, for
that steel shirt of his was strong, Jeffrey, lying low on his horse's
neck, was safe away, and though the murderers followed hard they never
caught him.

Nor, though they searched for days, could they find him at Shefton or
elsewhere, for Jeffrey, who knew that all roads were blocked, and who
dared not venture home, doubling like a hare across country, had won
down to the water, where a ship lay foreign bound, and by dawn was on
the sea.