A murmur of surprise and expectation now ran through
the crowd, and the same bold hand bodily removed the head-rail and the
robe beneath it; and there stood old Bartlemy in his gray woollen
tunic, his legs bare from the knees down, and his feet encased in skin
shoes reaching to his ankles.
"Well done, mother!" cried the bold revealer of his identity. "And now
do thou tell us speedily who is this esquire Humphrey whom thou
seekest. Mayhap he is as little an esquire as thou art an old woman."
Bartlemy looked from face to face, but he answered nothing.
At this moment a groom came running from the stables. "Master! master!"
he cried, addressing the innkeeper, "the horse of the esquire Humphrey
be gone."
"Gone, sirrah!" repeated the innkeeper. "And whither is he gone?"
"Why, that I know not, master. I only know that the horse of the young
lady did bear him company. But the mule of the nurse is still there,
wherefore there is no thievery, since he did take but his own."
The bystanders now crowded more closely around Bartlemy, with the
innkeeper at the front as questioner. "Tell us truly, old man," said
the innkeeper, threateningly; "who is this esquire Humphrey, and who
is the young lady that beareth him company? Make haste with thine
answer, or it shall be worse for thee.
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