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Doyle, Arthur Conan, Sir, 1859-1930

"The White Company"


"Stand!" he shouted, raising his heavy cudgel to enforce the
order. "Who are you who walk so freely through the wood?
Whither would you go, and what is your errand?"
"Why should I answer your questions, my friend?" said Alleyne,
standing on his guard.
"Because your tongue may save your pate. But where have I looked
upon your face before?"
"No longer ago than last night at the `Pied Merlin,'" the clerk
answered, recognizing the escaped serf who had been so outspoken
as to his wrongs.
"By the Virgin! yes. You were the little clerk who sat so mum in
the corner, and then cried fy on the gleeman. What hast in the
scrip?"
"Naught of any price."
"How can I tell that, clerk? Let me see."
"Not I."
"Fool! I could pull you limb from limb like a pullet. What
would you have? Hast forgot that we are alone far from all men?
How can your clerkship help you? Wouldst lose scrip and life
too?"
"I will part with neither without fight."
"A fight, quotha? A fight betwixt spurred cock and new hatched
chicken! Thy fighting days may soon be over.


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