The dogs within Gamewell began to bark and growl, and presently they heard sounds of approach. In a moment more the doors were opened and they saw a servant armed with a lanthorn and a stick.
"I would have audience with Master Montfichet," said Robin, in a bold voice. "Pray take me to him at once."
"Do you come from Nottingham?" asked the man, civilly.
"I left there this day," replied Robin.
"Follow me," said the servant, briefly. He waited until they were safely inside; then closed the doors carefully. He led them across the court to the inner doors.
Here another fellow was in waiting, also carrying a light. "These are travellers from Nottingham, desiring audience of Master Gamewell," observed the first servant.
"Your names, gentles?" asked the second.
"I am Robin o' th' Hood, and this is Master Gilbert of Blois," said Robin, at once.
They were escorted into the great hall, and there, sat beside the open hearth, was old Squire George. He made a pathetic figure. Robin felt his heart go out to him.
Yet even when he had satisfied himself in a single glance as to the identity of one of the late-coming guests, Montfichet gave no sign. His was a strange nature, and he could not forgive Robin his innocent deceit.