“Gone!” cried I, not heeding all the rest. “And did he leave aught for me?”
“I doubt not he left his blessing, but nothing else.”
“But my cloak, he had my cloak.”
“If he have it not still, ay, and the nag too, it will be because he has met a stronger man than ever I saw yet on earth,” said mine host.
“But the cloak!” roared I, “that cloak had papers in it; it was—”
Here the Bishop’s man put down his mug and pricked up his ears.
“Which way did he go?” cried I. “Saddle me my horse. I must overtake him or all is lost.”
“Papers?” said the Bishop’s man. “What sort of papers, prithee?”
“I know not,” said I. “Oh, that cursed cloak!”
“Harkee, my lad,” said the man sternly, “answer me two questions, if you will.”