The grey dawn was beginning to break, and the storm was dying away. Raymond looked out of the door, and saw with great satisfaction the knight's horse stabled in a small adjoining hut that had been invisible on the previous night. There in the distance the smoke of the English camp-fires showed distinctly in the now clear air, while less than a bowshot from the mill lay the wood that had been the cause of their misfortune.
Suddenly the young knight heard the sound of scuffling and Thompson's voice shouting "Help, master, help!"
Darting back to the room, he found his servant engaged in a desperate struggle with the captive, who was endeavouring to destroy the letter he had entrusted to the double-dealing Gascon, a portion of which he had attempted to swallow.
With no gentle hand Raymond aided his man to throw the prisoner on his back and wrench the missive from him.
"Thy parole, Sir Knight!" he exclaimed.
"——has been kept," gasped the captive, "but I trow thou wilt admit that no farther compact was made. I am foiled in this matter, but I pray thee, of thy courtesy, give me leave to finish my work and destroy this missive."
"That I cannot do. This letter, which I doubt not is of great moment, I will take charge of, and hand over to my Lord Chandos. 'Tis now daylight, and we must needs return to the camp. I am loth to let thee walk, but as there is but one horse between two knights, 'tis better that neither ride."
Walking side by side, and followed by Thompson leading the captive's horse, Raymond and the French knight arrived at the camp without further incident, and, after handing his prisoner over to the camp-martial, the young knight repaired with all despatch to find Sir John Hacket.
On hearing Raymond's story the Constable accompanied him to the tent of Sir John Chandos, whose banner floated close to the royal pavilion.
Lord Chandos opened the letter which Raymond had gained possession of, and found that its contents were practically undamaged in the struggle.