"Is Mr. Malpas of the number?" I demanded.
"Oh, he!" he answered with a shrug. "A bitter secret man! If 'a has plots he keeps them close. He flies alone, though 'tis whispered he flies boldly. But we be honest men," quoth he, and held his chin 'twixt finger and thumb. "We live and let live, and meet fortune with a smile. But I hate them that squint upon the world sidelong, as he doth." From which I drew inference that they twain had formerly thieved together, and that Malpas had retained the spoil.
But I soon tossed these thoughts aside for another, which, as it came without premeditation, so did I put it into practice immediately. Having satisfied my charges at the inn, therefore, and without a word to Jocelin, I ran across the street and into the gate-house of the castle, before the porter had time to close the gate of it behind the horsemen.
"Is Mr. Malpas within?" I accosted him eagerly.
The porter regarded me awhile from beneath raised brows.
"Have you any business with him, young master?" said he.
"Grave business," I replied, "knowing, as I do, who it was gave him that hurt he lies sick withal."
The old man pushed the gate to with more dispatch than I had thought him capable of using. "Ay, you know that?" he muttered, looking upon me with extraordinary interest. "That should be comfortable news to Signor Guido; that should be honey and oil to his wound;" and I saw by that he understood his Malpas pretty well.
He led me aside into his lodge, and there, being set in his deep, leathern chair, spread himself to listen.
"Who is he, now?" he asked, in that rich, low voice a man drops into that anticipates the savour of scandal.