Her courage and her presence of mind had alike deserted her. " "We waste time with this fellow," interposed Sir Cecil, "and may lose the object of our quest, who, beyond doubt, has taken refuge in this building. He thought her only an orphan in search of her English relatives. After some time, the scuffle grew more and more distant, until nothing could be heard. But we’ve got the brains to get over that, and tongues in our heads to talk to each other. She was clad in fresh linen, but still wore the riding-habit she had appropriated, having sponged out the spots of blood late last night and left it to dry in the kitchens. She had tried him as a Crusader, in which guise he seemed plausible but heavy—“There IS something heavy about him; I wonder if it’s his mustache?”—and as a Hussar, which made him preposterous, and as a Black Brunswicker, which was better, and as an Arab sheik.
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