"'(Signed)Sir Thomas Winter.'"
"Beshrew my heart, but thou art a ripe scholar, landlord, and much I marvel to see one with such goodly learning wasting time on knaves like these," cried the man, pointing to his companions at the table; "and pray," he continued, "since myself hath been introduced in name, I would know thine also, so I might thank thee the heartier."
"Giles Martin, for want of better," replied the host, "and dost thou know this Sir Thomas Winter?" he inquired after a moment, still looking at the note in his hand.
"Aye, and for a right brave gentleman, who hath done me noble service."
"For one done unto himself, I take it, from the purport of the letter?"
"A small service, not worth the mentioning," replied Fawkes. "Once in Spain, a gentleman—the self-same Sir Thomas, was sorely set upon by a surly ruffian, who, in exchange for his purse, would have given him Paradise." Then with a deprecating wave of the hand, which he dropped on the hilt of his rapier, "'twas but a weakly blow I turned, and spitted the varlet with my good sword here. Zounds," he continued with a voice full of enthusiasm, "for this petty act he did conduct my poor motherless lass out of a country where, to the men, a pretty face is as flint to powder, and brought her safe to London and her grandam."
"You saved his life; 'twas a worthy object and a worthy deed," exclaimed Martin heartily, who had been watching the speaker narrowly during his narration.
"Tut, tut; 'twas nothing; but I take it thou hast acquaintance with him," said Fawkes, turning toward the other, with a manner which denoted surprise at the landlord's outburst of appreciation, "and may direct me unto his residence, for after many years' absence I am lately come, and illy versed in London's streets which are as crooked as a blade that hath lain long in the fire."
"In truth, I do know where he lives," said Martin (then continued in a lower tone as if speaking to himself) "and further, that he's in none too good favor with the King. But as to his address: if thou wilt take the dome on St. Paul's as thy guide, which thou canst most readily see, proceed thither, and when reached, continue down the street running toward the left, a few more steps will bring thee to a house surrounded by an iron railing; it is the one thou seekest." He hesitated a moment, then continued as if good judgment had been overcome by enthusiasm—"and when thou dost behold Sir Thomas, make mention that Giles Martin (say naught of my present calling, for he knows me not by that) sends his duty, and would again at his elbow cry in the self-same voice, 'An Essex, An Essex!' Perchance," Martin added, suddenly breaking off, fearing he had been incautious before a stranger in connecting his name with an incident which had brought but little honor with it, "that is why I am now doing this," taking a soiled tankard from the table and wiping it on his apron.
"Gladly will I be the bearer of thy message, but as thou hast said, why does Sir Winter stand in ill repute?"