"King's officer, forsooth! Now, listen! As you value your hide, answer truly. We are king's officers; he is an arrant rogue and villain. For aught I know you may be his accomplice. Now, where is he?"
"He rode off this morning to Selby."
"And he returns----?"
"Sir, I know not--on my honour!"
Whether the man lied or not I could not tell. His crafty face was expressionless.
"Now, listen, sirrah! Say not one word that we are here, but directly he returns let us know. Fail us, or play us false, and you'll answer to the king's justices at York."
The landlord, thoroughly cowed, promised compliance, and we withdrew to a remote room to await events.
Twilight was drawing in as the sound of horse's hoofs was heard on the hard road. We made our way to a window where we could overlook the front of the inn, and the horseman proved without doubt to be the rogue Joyce, though he was arrayed more gaily than of yore, and a close-trimmed beard hid the lower part of his face.
The landlord took his horse to the stables where ours were kept, and Joyce made to follow, but with some inaudible remark the former succeeded in inducing the villain to enter the house.
In a few minutes we heard him calling for food and drink, and the clattering of knives and platters showed that he was appeasing his appetite with zest.