"I bethink me; the house near East Church. It is called Nest—Nest—Nest—ay, Gull's Nest. 'Tis but a poor abode for one who bears a diamond-hilted sword, and bears it bravely too. An every-day person, Master De Guerre, would sell the diamonds and get a gayer lodging."
"Persons differ in this and all other matters, more or less," replied the young man somewhat haughtily: "I wish you good night, sir."
"Hot!" said the stranger, at the same time laying his hand upon the arm of De Guerre: "Hot and high! Well, it is an ill tree that needs no pruning; but the preserver and the preserved must not part thus. Come with me to Cecil Place, and though I have it not to offer golden recompense, yet I can assure to you a glad welcome; for my friends all love each other."
"Go with him, go with him; never say him nay: why should you not go when he desires it?" whispered Robin.
"But you are mounted, and well too, and I a-foot, and cannot pace it with you," replied De Guerre, hesitatingly.
"And your grey steed is too far away—even for that nimble squire to bring in good time," retorted the other, a kind of smile distending the rugged and untrimmed moustache that garnished his upper lip.
"My grey steed!" repeated Walter in astonishment.
"Yes, and a stout beast it is. But I will rein in my horse, and the Place is not so distant but we may keep together."
"Thanks for your proffered hospitality," said De Guerre; "but must we not do something with the fellow you have slain? His companion was too swift o'foot for me."
"Let the tree lie even where it fell," replied the other, looking on the body for an instant, and then mounting his horse with the greatest composure; "some one will cover it with decent earth in the morning: let us forward, my young friend."