"Carry her in here, sir, I pray you," the woman said. "I will speedily
bring her round."

Edgar followed her into the room that she had left, which was a kitchen,
and laid her down on a settle. Two maids who were standing there uttered
exclamations of surprise and pity as the girl was carried in.

"Hold your tongues, wenches, and do not make a noise! Margaret, fetch me
cold water, and do you, Elizabeth, help me to unlace the young lady's
bodice," for the light in the kitchen enabled her to see at once that the
girl was well dressed.

As soon as Edgar had laid her down, he hurried out of the kitchen, moving
his arm uneasily as he did so, having discovered to his surprise that the
weight of an insensible girl, though but some fourteen years old, was much
more than he had dreamt of. In a parlour in front he found Albert and the
landlord cutting off the doublet of the wounded man, so as to get at his
shoulder, where a great patch of blood showed the location of the wound.
He was some forty years old; his dress was quiet but of good quality, and
Edgar judged him to be a London trader. His face was very white, but he
was perfectly sensible. One of the servitors ran in with a cup of wine.
The wounded man was able to lift it to his lips and to empty it at a
draught.

"That is better!" he murmured, and then he did not speak again until the
landlord, with considerable skill, bandaged up the shoulder.

"You have had a narrow escape," he said. "There is a sword-thrust just
below your collar-bone. An inch or two lower and it would have gone hard