“I advise thee not to look for help to so distant a quarter. Martin! I have always hated thee, both at Kenilworth and Walderne. Revenge is a morsel fit for the gods.”
“What hast thou to revenge?”
“Didst thou not plot to oust me of mine inheritance, the night before the doting old woman died up above? It cost her her life.”
“For which thou must answer to God.”
“Nay, thine hand, not mine, administered it. Ha! ha! ha!”
“And what dost thou seek of me now?”
“Nothing, save the joy of removing an enemy out of my path.”
“I am no man’s enemy.”
“Yes, thou art mine, and always hast been. Didst thou not plot against me with that old hag, Mother Madge, whom I have sent to her master in a chariot of fire?”
“I heard her confession of that particular crime.”