For two years the clac-clac of Dormy Jamais's sabots had not been heard in the streets of St.Heliers--he had been wandering in France, a daft pilgrim.

Ranulph remembered how these sabots used to pass and repass the doorway of his own home.

It was said that while Dormy Jamais paced the streets there was no need of guard or watchman.

Many a time had Ranulph shared his supper with the poor beganne whose origin no one knew, whose real name had long since dropped into oblivion.
The rattle of the sabots came nearer, the footsteps were now in front of the window.

Even as Ranulph was about to knock and call the poor vagrant's name, the clac-clac stopped, and then there came a sniffing at the shutters as a dog sniffs at the door of a larder.