"Thou'rt hunting my name by the heels, Sir Richard," Lightsom answered, pausing to give the young knight speech. "Vanisheth the motley, vanisheth Lightsom, the laughing fool. Vanisheth as well my good master, and I discover me without a body whereupon to practise my cutting art withal. To-day, good my knight, I was to play the executioner. Till I doff this habit let my name be Gruesom.... Bloodysom.... Anything, forsooth, but Lightsom! Dost take in the dolour of my visage?" "Ah! What an end to come by," observed Sir Richard. "An ax, wielded by a fool. Name me thy unhappy victim--and loose thy hold of my cape, fellow." "Marry, sir knight, shudder not thus! Is the touch of a fool less contaminative than that of the executioner? An it be, I wot not why. One murders the King's good English, the other the King's good subjects--both are the slaves of unyielding circumstance. And besides, good my knight, the head, after its separation from the body, recks not of the means whereof it was accomplished. Thy sword--my ax--'tis all the same to 't. So it be a bold, clean, and clever stroke, mark ye!" "Have done with your parleying, Lightsom, and----" "Say Grimsom, Sir Richard," the fool interrupted whiningly. "Smear not my melancholy cloth with grime!" "Well, ... Grimsom, then, ... give me thy unhappy victim's name?" Leaning forward till his repulsive face almost touched Sir Richard's, he skewed his features all awry in a horrible grimace. This was his only answer. The young knight instantly went cold to the marrow, and repeated his question tensely, passing the fool a rose noble. "This," said Lightsom tantalizingly, balancing the yellow disc upon his raised forefinger, "will purchase thee one letter of his name, ... just one letter, Sir Richard. I am as hungry for gold as the block is thirsty for blood. Why need the pair of us be cheated? Say, ... wilt buy me his full name in these round baubles?" Without a word Sir Richard counted out and passed the fool sixteen more. "Have I made the count correctly?" he whispered hoarsely. Lightsom went then to tallying with his clawlike finger upon his beak of a nose. "In truth," he muttered, "I had expected but ten more.... Six.... Six.... Ah! I, by playing just then the fool, have myself disgraced my somber trappings. I have clean forgotten that his name is Lionel, by the rood, ... eh!" This was enough for Sir Richard. In a frenzy of poignant regret and mortal fear, and leaving the black dwarf crying shrilly for him not to divulge the source of his information, he dashed away down the long gallery in a mad search of Lady Anna. CHAPTER XV OF THE GALLERY OF THE GRIFFINS' HEADS