He was relieved to see that the camp's unbidden guest lay comfortably upon his own blankets by the fire.
Somehow the minstrel's face, clean-shaven, strikingly brown of skin and unmistakably foreign beneath the thatch of dark hair sparsely veined in grey, lingered hauntingly in his memory.
"Where in thunder have I seen him before ?" wondered Philip restlessly.
"There's something about his eyes and forehead--on the road probably, for of course I've passed him a number of times.

Still--Lord!" added Philip with a burst of impatience, "what a salamander I am, to be sure! Whittington, old top, ever since I've known our gypsy lady, I've done nothing but fuss." But, nevertheless, when Diane's camp finally settled into quiet for the night, there was a watchful sentry in the forest who did not retire to his bed of hay until Johnny was astir at daybreak.

And Philip was to find his bearings in a staggering flash of memory and know no peace for many a day to come..