"Blancherive!"
Hugh's jaw dropped.
"Yes. Do you know it?"
"'Tis on the first road beyond the wood, turning off the highroad," answered Hugh, ignoring the last question, and without giving the stranger opportunity to speak again he wheeled his stallion and dashed up the ride, the hounds a silent pack at his heels, the girl beside him all curiosity.
"He asked for Blancherive," she exclaimed. "Why, Hugh, who can he be? No friend of Uncle Godwin's that I wot of."
"No, the man is new to me," Hugh agreed. "You heard him ask his way. A stranger. No Frenchman by his talk, either. It may be he is from Italy."
"From Italy? But who would come seeking Uncle Godwin from Italy?"
"Would that I knew, Edith. Well, shall we head back to the Castle and find out?"
She considered, her face of a sudden very grave.
"No, I have a feeling bids me not, Hugh," she decided. "Let us make the most of this day while we have it. What next?"