"’Twas Edgar Wintour fought with thee in the lists," blurted out the man hurriedly. "I have heard words let fall that make the matter clear." "Edgar Wintour--and who is Edgar Wintour?" cried the knight with savage impatience. "He is Sir John’s esquire." The look that came into the knight’s face made Baulch regret the success of his enquiries. De Maupas gasped, grew even paler than before, and clutched convulsively at the couch on which he lay. Then a sudden passion seemed to galvanize him into activity and he rose to his feet almost with a bound. "What!" he thundered. "Dare ye tell me that----?" But his strength was unequal to the effort, and clutching at his bandages with both hands, as though his head were about to split in twain, he sank slowly and painfully back upon the couch. "A pretty debt I owe the boy if thy tale is true," he muttered at last in a changed voice. "Art sure of thy facts?" "Sure, my lord. I saw him mounted upon Sir John’s charger early this morning, and the way he rode made me think at once of the spring and fire of thine adversary yesterday. Then I heard some words let drop by one Matthew, a man-at-arms of Sir John, and I knew ’twas so." "So that was what was in his mind when he gave me that strange look yesterday," muttered De Maupas to himself. "It was on my lips to demand an explanation. Would I had done so! I might have forced the quarrel then and there with the advantage on my side, mailed and ready for a conflict as I was." "Canst not let the good earl know of the trick he played?" said the man presently. "Surely he would punish him for daring so to dupe the marshals of the lists?" "Be silent, fool! Dost think I want all the world to know that I, a knight, was beaten by an unfledged esquire? See to it that no word of it is breathed by thee." For some time Sir Gervaise remained silent, staring viciously at the ground the while. The expression on his face was not good to see, and it might have been as well had Edgar Wintour been there to see it. "Baulch," said the knight at last, "Baulch, I gave thee money for Sir John Chartris--alive. I offer thee double the sum for this Edgar Wintour--dead. Dost understand?" The tone of the knight’s voice was low and measured, but the expression of his face was so deadly that the blackest rage would have seemed less implacable. Baulch seemed to have no great stomach for the task put to him, but one furtive look at the knight’s face was sufficient, and he answered hastily: "I understand, my lord." "Then begone." * * * * * "Couldst hear no more than that, Peter? Nothing save a few words of angry reproach against the man when De Maupas’s voice rang highest?"