"God in Heaven absolve me for this inadvertence!" roared Tyrrell, getting to his feet, and, in seeming forgetfulness of his infirmities, strode furiously back and forth above the brown and crackling leaves. "Much, indeed, is now made plain to me. Yet ... after losing his hold of him," he went on, communing with himself, "why did Douglas so stoutly maintain his position ... there remains no other claimant ... 'tis passing strange—passing strange!"
For some time thereafter he continued setting restless footfalls amidst the carpet of dead leaves, clenching his hands and biting his thin lips.
Upon a sudden Sir Richard recalled the circumstance of the fair-haired youth imprisoned in Castle Yewe.
"Mayhap I can lesson thee of some things, Sir James," he volunteered.
"Then thou wilt discover in me a right willing listener," said Tyrrell, seating himself again upon the riven log.
So, briefly as might be, and clearly as he could compass it, Sir Richard related the story of the secret passageway and of Lady Douglas' daily teaching of the imprisoned youth.
"Ah! what monstrous iniquity!" Tyrrell cried when his companion had finished, thrusting his staff deep into the black mould. "Now is everything made transparent ... as plain as the haps of yesterday! So false Douglas would impose him a counterfeit prince upon the credulous people of England? Marry! marry! to what depths of dishonor doth self ambition lead us! But what saidst thou was this youth's name, Sir Richard?"
"Perkin Warbeck."
"I' faith I know it not. Some yeoman's son, forsooth. Poor boy! an he follow this adventure to its end, he'll be gazing upon his body from another view-point than atop his shoulders. But more upon this same subject when we are come into the Tavern. Let all of that which has been said to thee to-day assimilate perfectly with thy understanding. Papers shall be laid before thee in substantiation of all my statements."
Stooping, Tyrrell took up the herbs which he had gathered by the way.