They talked for the better part of an hour, and at last walked together to the junction of highroad and the bridle-path. But Jack eluded their grasp. He could imagine it even if he could not feel it. I'll keep it for your sake. Sometimes I try to talk. . . Reconnoitring them through a small grated loophole, he refused to open the door till they had explained their business. But was it Faith? That is what she was this day going to find out. Trodger might not need his hair dressed, but the flagon of ale that each soldier quaffed would be welcome—once his captain had departed, thought Roding cynically.
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