“I was not thrown,” replied the count, “for I also am a good rider; no, I tied him to a tree while I entered a house, and at my return he had disappeared. I thought he had been stolen, or that some passer-by had played a bad joke by carrying him away; that was why I asked how he returned to the stable.”
“He returned alone, as monsieur said just now.”
“It is strange. Monseigneur often rides this horse, you say?”
“Nearly every day.”
“His highness returned late last night?”
“About an hour before you.”
“And what horse did he ride? was it a bay with a white star on his forehead?”
“No, monsieur, he rode Isolin, which you see here.”
“And in the prince’s escort is there any one who rides such a horse as I describe?”
“I know of no one.”