"That is no Englishman—or Frenchman, either," declared Hugh.
A vague feeling of uneasiness stirred him.
"Have a look at his pockets," he directed.
Ralph made a methodical search of the man's clothing. Except the knife, some leather string and one silver penny there was nothing to show for his trouble.
But in examining the jerkin of rain-soaked, tarnished leather, the front of it tore apart.
"St. Mark aid us!" murmured Ralph. "Do but see the markings on his chest, Messer Hugh!"
Hugh dismounted from the stallion and bent close over the body. Daubed on the man's hairy chest in lurid colours were pictures of weird animals and a crucifix.
"They will not come off," said Ralph after an unsuccessful attempt with a moistened thumb. "It will be witchcraft, mayhap."
"Nay, I think not, Ralph," answered Hugh. "It is some seaman's trick—but this man is far from the sea for one of his trade. 'Tis a matter will bear investigation. Do you say nothing of it to any one. I will hold council with Prior Thomas, and we will search the roads to find if the fellow has been hereabouts."
Ralph frowned down at the dead man.