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"
What make ye here, my merry men, among the greenwood shaws?" sang
the
voice. "What make ye here? Hey! sots, what make ye here?" it added,
with a rattle of drunken laughter; and then, once more breaking into
song:
"If ye should drink the clary wine,
Fat Friar John, ye friend o' mine--
If I should eat, and ye should drink,
Who shall sing the mass, d'ye think?"
Lawless, alas! rolling drunk, was wandering the house, seeking for a
corner wherein to slumber off the effect of his potations. Dick inwardly
raged. The spy, at first terrified, had grown reassured as he found he
had to deal with an intoxicated man, and now, with a movement of cat-like
rapidity, slipped from the chamber, and was gone from Richard's eyes.
What was to be done? If he lost touch of Lawless for the night, he was
left impotent, whether to plan or carry forth Joanna's rescue. If, on
the other hand, he dared to address the drunken outlaw, the spy might
still be lingering within sight, and the most fatal consequences ensue.
It was, nevertheless, upon this last hazard that Dick decided. Slipping
from behind the tapestry, he stood ready in the doorway of the chamber,
with a warning hand upraised. Lawless, flushed crimson, with his eyes
injected, vacillating on his feet, drew still unsteadily nearer. At last
he hazily caught sight of his commander, and, in despite of Dick's
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