He lowered his head thoughtfully and gathered a few loose stones in his hand. These he threw into the air and caught again as they came down. He broke out into a soft whistle and stamped his foot to the tune. I got up from my seat and stood before him waiting for a move.
“Are you going to loiter here till we’re caught, master scrivener?” I asked.
“If we’re caught, there’s always a way out,” he remarked. “You have seen already it’s a little knack I have.”
With that he arose slowly and brushed the crumbs from his clothes. He took a last draught of water from the stream and gazed about.
“We’ll not go far,” he said at length. “We’ll keep in the neighborhood. The worst of it is that we’ve no arms but your dagger.”
He went on ahead and I followed. Whatever his thoughts were I cannot tell. But I know that mine were none of the lightest. I was beset with dread. In my imagination I heard the confusion when the body of the guard was found. I saw the consternation of the rest of them. I pictured to myself the fury they were in. That they would not let us off unpunished was all too clear. It was about two hours since I left the inn. By this, no doubt, they were on foot and even in pursuit of us.
I soon felt a jar run through me. We had wandered straight along the side of the hill in a line with the valley. Of a sudden we came to a point of rock that stood jutting higher than the ground roundabouts. There were no trees upon it, only the bare stone. When we reached the summit the whole country spread on either hand like a rolling field. A white line curled and circled in and around the wanderings of a little stream that flowed slowly towards the south. It was the great highway that leads down the valley of the Loire to the west of France. It was the road that I would have been traveling in peace and comfort, if it had not been for the interference of my enemies.
Of a sudden the sound of clattering hoofs came to my ears. Then there shot into view two horsemen with bows and arrows slung over their shoulders. From where I was I could even see the grim expression on their faces and the foam dripping from their horses’s mouths.
I glanced anxiously at the scrivener.
“There they go,” he remarked.