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Doyle, Arthur Conan, Sir, 1859-1930

"Sir Nigel"


"I would that you had laid hands upon him," said the Prince
angrily, continuing his conversation with Chandos, "and yet,
perchance, it was wiser to play this trick and make them think
that we were retreating."
"He has certainly carried the tidings," said Chandos, with a
smile. "No sooner had the wagons started than I saw him gallop
down the edge of the wood."
"It was well thought of, John," the Prince remarked, "for it would
indeed be great comfort if we could turn their own spy against
them. Unless they advance upon us, I know not how we can hold out
another day, for there is not a loaf left in the army; and yet if
we leave this position where shall we hope to find such another?"
"They will stoop, fair sir, they will stoop to our lure. Even now
Robert de Duras will be telling them that the wagons are on the
move, and they will hasten to overtake us lest we pass the ford.
But who is this, who rides so fast? Here perchance may be
tidings."
A horseman had spurred up to the knoll. He sprang from the
saddle, and sank on one knee before the Prince.
"How now, my Lord Audley," said Edward. "What would you have?"
"Sir," said the knight, still kneeling with bowed head before his
leader, "I have a boon to ask of you."
"Nay, James, rise! Let me hear what I can do."
The famous knight errant, pattern of chivalry for all time; rose
and turned his swarthy face and dark earnest eyes upon his master.


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