“I cannot thank you, Sir John,” she said. “To me it seems serious enough. Nothing is of any concern of ours except the discovery of the man’s identity. He stooped to recover it, and his face was hidden. And before Kneebone could draw his sword, he felled him to the ground with the iron bar. Professing to stand between the robber and the robbed, he himself plundered both. In this letter, which is addressed to my ill-fated mother, he speaks of his friendship for Sir Rowland, whom it seems he had known abroad; but entreats her to keep the marriage secret for a time, for reasons which are not fully developed. What is it?" "Guess," rejoined Blueskin, attempting to throw a gallant expression into his forbidding countenance. There was no sense in creating further difficulties for herself by arguing with the sergeant over her identity. Perhaps you will meet him someday. He growled in his throat and, thrusting his coat open, revealed his own buckled sword-belt.
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