CHAPTER III--THE DEAD SPY

Throughout this furious and rapid passage, Lawless had looked on

helplessly, and even when all was over, and Dick, already re-arisen to

his feet, was listening with the most passionate attention to the distant

bustle in the lower storeys of the house, the old outlaw was still

wavering on his legs like a shrub in a breeze of wind, and still stupidly

staring on the face of the dead man.

"It is well," said Dick, at length; "they have not heard us, praise the

saints! But, now, what shall I do with this poor spy? At least, I will

take my tassel from his wallet."

So saying, Dick opened the wallet; within he found a few pieces of money,

the tassel, and a letter addressed to Lord Wensleydale, and sealed with

my Lord Shoreby's seal. The name awoke Dick's recollection; and he

instantly broke the wax and read the contents of the letter. It was

short, but, to Dick's delight, it gave evident proof that Lord Shoreby

was treacherously corresponding with the House of York.

The young fellow usually carried his ink-horn and implements about him,

and so now, bending a knee beside the body of the dead spy, he was able

to write these words upon a corner of the paper:

My Lord of Shoreby, ye that writt the letter, wot ye why your man is

The Black Arrow