Picking their way through the dark and narrow streets at a pace necessarily much reduced, they slowly approached their goal, until at length, on emerging into New Fish Street, they discerned the towering walls of London Bridge.
Here they reined in suddenly with one accord, for, plainly visible in the moonlight, a group of horsemen was gathered and there was borne to their ears the sturdy voice of Sir Isaac.
"Hallo!" he cried. "There be riders in New Fish Street. See where they lurk in the shadow! What ho, there! Give a name! Stand forth there!"
Sir Guy drew his sword.
"'Tis time for steel to answer!" he laughed.
"Nay—nay! Wait—wait!" said Phœbe, earnestly. "There must be other issue than in blood!"
Two or three horsemen now detached themselves from the group near the bridge and cantered up New Fish Street. Sir Isaac was among them.
"Are ye there, traitor?" he cried. "Where is my daughter?"
Sir Guy was about to reply when Phœbe put her hand on his arm.
"Hush!" she whispered. "Hearken!"