"Till we meet," returned the Duke quickly, "it shall again be yours. When your bonnet was being burnished this morning it rolled from out the fillet to the pavilion floor." Whereupon, having explained his possession of the note, he tossed the bit of paper before Sir Richard upon the table. Then, as de Claverlok drew rein and called aloud for them to mount--"Which shall it be," he whispered, "mace, battle-ax, or sword?" "Battle-axes, at cock-shut time," Sir Richard hastily answered, moving in the direction of his waiting horse. "Battle-axes at cock-shut time," repeated the Duke. Then, with a sweeping bow, he held the young knight's stirrup for him to mount. "Battle-axes at cock-shut time," he said again. "Thou hast laid a command upon me, ... Liege!" he added, with the last word hissed low in Sir Richard's ear as he vaulted lightly past him into his saddle. "Liege?" thought the young knight to himself as he rode onward down the road beside de Claverlok. "Why all these ceremonious bows? This calling of me a _noble_ knight? This strange captivity? Why should I--I, Richard Rohan, knight, and lowly messenger of the King be thus curtseyed to and addressed? And what mean these subdued mutterings among the men of 'A traitor in camp,' 'Douglas playing false and arming,' 'Tyrrell outmaneuvered'? Fates defend me. I had liefer set my lance against the Dragon of Wantley than make an attempt to unravel the deep mysteries by which I am this moment surrounded." CHAPTER IX OF AN AMBUSCADE, A DUEL, AND AN ESCAPE The Renegade Duke, whose challenge Sir Richard had so openly invited, and who, through the mishap described, had secured a temporary possession of the playful note written to the young knight by Isabel, had quickly surmised by whom it had been inscribed. He was aware of the maid's dissatisfaction with her surroundings, and that she had chosen Sir Richard to be her deliverer at once sent the Duke into a ferment of passionate jealousy. The Renegade Duke's accidental meeting with Isabel when he had first come to Scotland to join Tyrrell's projected expedition, had marked the beginning of a mad desire to arouse within her breast a return of the sentiment that he entertained toward her. In so far as his superficial character permitted, his affection for her was genuine. But in the rare instances in which he had contrived to meet and talk with her alone, she had rejected his suit with an indignant scorn that would have left an ordinary man without the shadow of a hope of future success. The Duke, however, was all egotism and vanity, and remained firm in his belief that his charms would ultimately prevail. By fair means or foul, he had determined upon having her within his power; and, as the initial step toward such an end, he had played the traitor by laying bare before Douglas the whole of Sir James's plan.