There
was nothing noticeable in the room except a couple of fishing-nets, a
hunting-spear, and an old cross-bow. A small open casement looked
upon the river, whose clear sparkling waters flowed immediately
beneath it.
Surrey approached the window, and obtained a fine view of the Brocas
meads on the one hand, and the embowered college of Eton on the
other. His attention, however, was diverted by a fierce barking without,
and the next moment, in spite of the vociferations of the old woman, a
large black staghound, which Surrey recognised as Fenwolf's dog,
Bawsey, burst through the door, and rushed furiously towards him.
Surrey drew his dagger to defend himself from the hound's attack, but
the precaution was needless. Bawsey's fierceness changed suddenly
to the most abject submission, and with a terrified howl, she retreated
from the room with' her tail between her legs. Even the old woman
uttered a cry of surprise.
"Lord help us!" exclaimed Bryan; "was ever the like o' that seen? Your
lordship must have a strange mastery over dogs. That hound," he
added, in a whisper, "is said to be a familiar spirit."
"The virtue of the relic is approved," observed Surrey to Richmond, in
an undertone.
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