But this cold-blooded ordered search left none.
Every face about us was turned in the same direction; away from the river and towards a block of old houses which stood opposite to it.
The space immediately in front of these was empty, the people being kept back by a score or so of archers of the guard set at intervals, and by as many horsemen, who kept riding up and down, belabouring the bolder spirits with the flat of their swords, and so preserving a line.
At each extremity of this--more noticeably on our left where the line curved round the angle of the buildings--stood a handful of riders, seven in a group perhaps.

And alone in the middle of the space so kept clear, walking his horse up and down and gazing at the houses rode a man of great stature, booted and armed, the feather nodding in his bonnet.

I could not see his face, but I had no need to see it.

I knew him, and groaned aloud.

It was Bezers! I understood the scene better now.