"And he gave me the one thousand pounds, which I buried, and straightway I set out to find thee. Praise be to God I have done it!" And he looked at me with an air of joy. "Dost expect me to believe this?" I asked incredulously. "Believe it or not--it is the truth," he said doggedly. "Would I be likely to put myself in thy hands, if what I say were not true?" We were all this time making our way swiftly down the river, Winona in her little boat behind us. "Marsden," I said, "tell me the scheme of my abduction, all thou dost know of it--and then perhaps I may believe thee." "DeNortier had watched for several days to carry thee away from London," he answered, his face lighting up at the thought. "When thou didst walk abroad that night Herrick was at thy heels. But thou gavest him the slip and they had given up all hope, until one of the crew who drank in a little inn saw thee come by and sent word to DeNortier. Immediately he posted men at every lane which led from the tavern. As luck would have it, thou didst come up to the very one which he himself guarded, and he but had time to engage in a discussion with the drunken fool Steele, when thou didst approach, and the rest thou knowest." "Why did not DeNortier slay me when I was in his power?" I asked. "'Twas not like him to let the opportunity slip." "He loved the same fair lady that Dunraven and thyself sought to win," Marsden replied. "Whilst he had thee in his hands, he could play thee off against my lord, and so hold him in check," and he burst into a roar of laughter. "Why dost thou shout so?" I asked sternly. "I see naught to laugh at." "I but thought of the tale I heard DeNortier tell one day in his cups, of how thou didst go into the cave to explore it. The old hag, Neulta, cried out from a secret panel in the wall, and blew the candle out of thy hand with some of her secret power, and thou didst dash out of the cave as though the devil were at thy heels." He laughed again apologetically, and rubbed his eyes with his sleeve. "Thou knowest how Dunraven entrapped the Lady Margaret," he continued, "and how they set sail in the 'Betsy,' and making further south reached this coast a week before thou didst." "Yes," I answered impatiently. "But how does the Lady Margaret bear her imprisonment?" "Like an angel," he said, his crafty eyes lifted to mine to watch every expression. "Not a murmur has ever crossed her lips, and DeNortier protects her from harm, for he stands ever between her and Dunraven like a shield." "But I have something here that nearly concerns thee," he continued, drawing from his doublet a square package. "'Tis thy father's will, which I stole from thy brother Richard one night, thinking perhaps to sell it to thee at a propitious moment. It is thine for ten thousand pounds," and he waited impatiently for my reply. "Wouldst give that much for the estates and title?"