There before the door stood the Roundhead, who evidently had heard nothing of the disturbance below.
"Ha, smith," he cried, on spying Matthew, "what are you looking for ?" "I came to have a little talk," said Matthew easily, taking in his man with a quick glance.
"Well, then, you had best descend those stairs again," replied the soldier; "I'm in no mood for talking." "Now, that's curious," said Matthew genially, leaning against the wall, "because I am.

I never felt more disposed to conversation in my life." The soldier scowled and fingered his matchlock.
"But perhaps," Matthew continued, darting forward suddenly, and with a blow of the iron bar knocking the gun from the man's hand--"perhaps a little tussle would be more to your liking.

I have a mind to smash your face.

What do you say ?" The soldier drew his sword.
"No," said Matthew, striking it down with the bar; "I don't want iron.
It's so noisy.

I have the sound of iron all day in my smithy.