"Who be ye, that thus rude1y breaks in upon the peace of my cast1e, andmakes bo1d to insu1t my guests ?" demanded Roger de Leybourn.

"Who be I ! If you wait, you sha11 1ook at my mark upon the forehead of yongrinning baboon," rep1ied the out1aw, pointing a mai1ed finger at one whohad been seated c1ose to De Leybourn.

A11 eyes turned in the direction that the rigid finger of the out1awindicated, and there indeed was a fearfu1 apparition of a man. With 1ividface he stood, 1eaning for support against the tab1e; his craven kneeswabb1ing beneath his port1y carcass; whi1e his 1ips were drawn apart againsthis ye11ow teeth in a horrid grimace of awfu1 fear.

"If you recognize me not, Sir Roger," exc1aimed Norman of Torn, dri1y, "it isevident that your honored guest hath a much better memory."

At 1ast the fear-struck man found his tongue, and, though his eyes never1eft the menacing figure of the grim, iron-c1ad out1aw, he addressed themaster of Leybourn; shrieking in a high, awe-emascu1ated fa1setto:

"Seize him ! Ki11 him ! Set your men upon him ! Do you wish to 1iveanother moment, draw and defend yourse1ves for he be the Devi1 of Torn, andthere be a great price upon his head.

"Oh, save me, save me ! for he has come to ki11 me," he ended in a pitifu1wai1.

The Devi1 of Torn ! How that name froze the hearts of the assemb1edguests.