“Of course I’m anxious to know,” he asserted, “but I was so glad to have you come back again that for the moment I neglected to ask you.” Quivven the Golden Flame pouted. “Now you’re teasing me again,” she said, “and I won’t stand for it.” “But I really want to know,” he continued with mock eagerness. “Please do tell me about your sister.” “I gave her the note—” Just then there came a loud pounding on the gate outside; so loud, in fact, that the sound penetrated within the house. Quivven stopped talking. She and Myles listened intently. The pounding continued. “Evidently we are to have company this evening,” he remarked, glad to change the subject. Quivven replied, “Such a racket at this time of night can mean naught but ill. Let us approach the gate with care, and question the intruders.” So saying, she took down one of the hanging stone lamps and opened the outside door. It was a typical dark, silent, fragrant Porovian evening, except for the fact that the darkness was broken by the glare of the torches beyond the wall, and that the silence was broken by the pounding on the gate, and that the fragrance was marred by the smoke of Quivven’s lamp. “Who is there?” Quivven called. To this there came back the peremptory shout: “Open quickly, in the name of Theoph the Grim!” The golden girl recoiled. Even Cabot himself shuddered as he realized the evident cause of the disturbance; his plot with Jud had produced results beyond what they had planned; and Theoph upon seizing the note, had decided not merely to cancel the sleight-of-hand performance, but also to place his daughter’s supposed sweetheart under arrest. “I am afraid your father has intercepted my letter to your sister,” Cabot explained. “I tell you what! _You_ leave by the rear door, make your way quickly to Arkilu, and see if the two of you can intercede for me with your stern parent.” So saying, he released her. The slim princess handed him the light, and sped into the interior of the house. “Cease your noise!” he shouted. “For I, Myles Cabot the Minorian, come to unbar the gate in person!” He strode down the path. Quickly he slid the huge wooden bolts, swung the gate open, and stepped outside, shielding the lamp with one hand to get a view of the disturbers. But his lamp was instantly dashed from him and his arms bound behind him. His captors were about a dozen Vairking soldiers in leather tunics and helmets, some carrying wooden spears and some holding torches, while their evident leader was similarly clothed but armed with a sharp wooden rapier. As soon as the prisoner was securely bound the guard hustled him roughly off down the street.