"True, I remember now. . . The flat-nosed one alone escaped. . . Did De Bury ever speak to you of enemies in these parts?" "Never directly; though, as you know, he seemed to dislike the Abbot of Kirkstall and suspected him of being, at least, party to the other attack." "Well, we must wait for even a plausible solution until we have a few facts. Yet I would wager much it is an abduction--and God grant it be so. . . Of course, it may be the villains did not molest the Countess. In that case, find Sir John and you find her, too." "The chance is slight," De Lacy said quickly, "yet I shall ride rapidly back for a few miles and, perchance, it may be so. If I be not here by daybreak, Sire, I will join the men en route." "It will be a relief for you to be on the move," said Richard kindly; "but return here for your escort. We may have clues then; and if the Countess has been abducted, she is quite as likely to be carried South as North." "I shall be here at daybreak," Aymer answered. He saddled Selim with his own hand, and with Dauvrey beside him hurried away. They rode in silence with eyes alert, scanning sharply the ground on both sides of the road that lay like a silver stream before them. A mile from the castle a soldier rode out from the shadow and reined across the track, his casquetel and drawn sword glistening in the moonlight. "Hold!" he ordered. "Yorkshire!" said De Lacy . . . "Any news?" he demanded, as they swept by. "None, my lord." At the first cross-road two horsemen barred the way. Aymer paused to question them, but learning nothing, the pace was resumed. Another mile was passed, and they had tarried a moment to breathe and water the horses at a rivulet that gurgled across the road, when Selim suddenly threw up his head. "Some one comes!" said De Lacy . . . "it is news . . . he rides furiously; he must be stopped." They drew out into the middle of the track and waited. Presently a running horse shot into view ahead, and the rider, seeing the two in front, shouted the royal messenger's call: "Way! In the King's name! Way!" "Stay, Allen," Giles Dauvrey cried, recognizing him. "What word?" "Sir John has been found," the man answered, drawing up short. "Dead?" Aymer demanded. "No, my lord, not yet." "And the Countess of Clare?" "Gone, my lord; no trace." "God in Heaven! . . . Where Is Sir John?" "Half a league further on." "Tell the King I have gone thither," Aymer called over his shoulder as he raced away. In a patch of moonlight, fifty feet or so in from the road, lay Sir John de Bury, his eyes closed, his face upturned, motionless--to all appearances a corpse. De Lacy sprang down and knelt beside him. "He is not dead, my lord," said a soldier.