Albert gladly relinquished his charge, whose dead weight hanging on his
arms was already trying him. Edgar raised her across his shoulder.

"Albert," he said, "I know you have a piece of thin cord in your pocket. I
pray you twist it round that man's arm as hard as you can pull it, and
fasten it tightly. I have shorn off his hand, and he would very speedily
bleed to death. If you staunch the wound he may last till his comrades
come back, as they doubtless will after we have left; they will carry him
away and maybe save his life. He is a villainous ruffian, no doubt, but
'tis enough for me that I have one death on my hands to-night."

"He is dead already," Albert said, as he leant over the man and placed his
hand on his heart. "He must have been wounded by the traveller before we
came up."

"Well, it cannot be helped," Edgar replied, as he walked on with his
burden.

"Did you see aught, kind sirs," their companion said, "of a servitor with
three horses?"

"Nothing whatever," Albert answered, "though methought I heard horses'
hoofs going down the road as we ran along; but I paid small attention to
them, thinking only of arriving in time to save someone from being
maltreated."

"I believe that he was in league with the robbers," the man said. "But,"
and his voice faltered, "give me your arm, I pray you. My wound is deeper
than I thought, and my head swims."