“Nay, not dying. I must live to repent.
“Oh, the key! the key! Throw this key into the moat!
“Nay, he will haunt me. Tell me, am I really dying? Nay, if it cost me my soul, I will not baulk my vengeance. Besides, it is too late!
“Martin!”
A rush of blood came to his lips, and Drogo of Harengod fell back a corpse on the blood-stained grass. Hubert gazed upon him a moment, then loosed the armour to give him air, but it was all over.
“God rest his soul. Our enmity is over, but what did he mean about the key?”
He felt in the gypsire of the dead enemy. There was a key, unsightly, rusty, and heavy.
“Why, I remember this key. It is the key of the dungeon at Walderne. Whom can he have got there? Why is it here? What did he mean about Martin?”
A horrible dread seized him—he could not resist the impulse which came upon him to ride to Walderne at once. He sought Earl Simon, obtained a troop, and started immediately through the dark and gloomy forest for Walderne.