At length I saw the grid within the door to be slid back very warily, and by a faint access of light perceived that the porter bore a taper, as being unwilling to open to one he knew not, or could not see.
A conversation followed, but too low for me to hear it, though I suspected from the manner of the man that he first besought, and after demanded, admittance, which was still denied. Then he betook himself (as I could tell) to threats, and was soon come to wresting at the bars of the grid, like a madman. But that which sent me from my ambush was a cry of terror from the other side of the gate at his so insolent violence; for it was the cry of a girl.
I strode forward.
"Hold!" I said, mastering myself to speak within compass, and taking the man by the sleeve with my right hand, while I kept my left upon my poniard. "A guest that is not welcome should have the modesty to know it."
He swung round with a great oath, and would have flung me off, had I not gripped him pretty hard.
"Ay, is it thou?" said he, when he saw who held him, and I could swear there was some respect in his way of saying it.
"I come to tell you that your barber hath left his shop in Fetter Lane," said I.
He laughed aloud at that, high, and with a sort of scornful jollity, though his narrow eyes never left my face.
"You are right, lad," he said heartily, "and I have sought him everywhere since."
"Even upon London Bridge," said I, nodding.