shall have as much as a strike of flax of mine whilst I have strength to wag this sword.'
'And a passing strange sword it is,' quoth Sir Nigel. 'What make you, Alleyne, of these black lines which are drawn across the sheath?'
'I cannot tell what they are, my fair lord.'
'Nor can I,' said Ford.
The merchant chuckled to himself. 'It was a thought of mine own,' said he; 'for the sword was made by Thomas Wilson, the armourer, who is betrothed to my second daughter Margery. Know then that the sheath is one cloth-yard in length, marked off according to feet and inches to serve me as a measuring wand. It is also of the exact weight of two pounds, so that I may use it in the balance.'
'By Saint Paul!' quoth Sir Nigel, 'it is very clear to me that the sword is like thyself, good alderman, apt either for war or for peace. But I doubt not that even in England you have had much to suffer from the hands of robbers and outlaws.'
'It was only last Lammastide, sir knight, that I was left for dead near Reading as I journeyed to Winchester fair. Yet I had the rogues up at the court of pie-powder, and they will harm no more peaceful traders.'
'You travel much, then?'
'To Winchester, Linn mart, Bristol fair, Stourbridge, and Bartholomew's in London Town. The rest of the year you may ever find me five doors from the church of Our Lady, where I would from my heart that I was at this moment, for there is no air like Norwich air, and no water like the Yare, nor can all the wines of France compare with the beer of old Sam Yelverton who keeps the "Dun Cow." But, out and alack, here is an evil fruit which hangs upon this chestnut-tree.'
As he spoke they had ridden round a curve of the road and come upon a great tree which shot one strong brown branch across their path. From the centre of this branch there hung a man, with his head at a horrid slant to his body
