"In very truth it grieves me," said he, "that necessity bade me to set a period to a life that you held so precious. I can, good sir, but make offering of reparation in the way of gold."
Tyrrell turned toward the young knight and smiled sadly.
"Gold?" he softly answered. "It doubts me much whether all the gold in Christian England could salve the wound made by the death of this hound. An outcast, sir knight, he came to me, an outcast. I took him in and suffered him to tarry here till he grew kindred to my every wish, and the very manner of my likes and dislikes. As I am, noble sir, he was a bitter misanthrope, and would permit none, besides me, to approach him but Zenas, my unfortunate brother." He paused in his speech, regarding Sir Richard intently. As was habitual with this inimitable conspirator, he was but playing a part. If he had it in mind thereby to win his way to Sir Richard's sympathies, he was succeeding admirably.
"Whilst thou wert sleeping," he resumed at the proper moment, "I caused thy sword and baldric to be removed, so that thy rest might forsooth give thee a greater measure of comfort. I likewise laid command upon Zenas to stand guard over thy slumbers. Much sorrow doth it give me that he should have left thee without the protection of his presence whilst I was absent. But, marry, noble knight, the deed can now no more be recalled than can the sped shaft be returned from mid-flight to the string."
From top to toe Tyrrell was habited in somber black; and, as he talked, his lank body loomed anon through the half-circle of flickering light, and then would be blotted out in the deep shadows beyond, as he continued to pace slowly back and forth before the chimney. To the imaginative Sir Richard's mind it recalled a play that he had once witnessed with Henry and his court in London. In it there had been an actor who had affected to play the part of the devil; and who had appeared suddenly, and then as suddenly vanished, in a manner designed to appear miraculous.
"Though, in very truth," decided the young knight, "he did not resemble that grisly character one half so much as my mysterious landlord."
The scene in which Sir Richard was playing an involuntary part brought back to him the many evil tales that had been dinned into his ears since coming to Scotland of this same Red Tavern, together with a vivid recollection of the reported fate of the unwary, who, through any misadventure, chanced to seek the hospitality of its shelter. A dozen times it had been upon the tip of his tongue to make mention of these rumors, but the words persisted in halting upon the threshold of utterance. In the light of the reality and substance of his surroundings they appeared as nothing more than weirdly fantastic creations, or ridiculous superstitions, and as such he did his utmost to dismiss them from his mind.
He was just meditating some appropriate subject of conversation by which the prolonged and somewhat uncomfortable silence might be interrupted, when the hunchback came into the room, bearing upon his back a billet of wood that was vastly greater in length and girth than he.
"Dost know, Zenas," said Tyrrell sternly, "that thou hast committed a most grievous fault in not remaining to stand watch over our honored guest? Where hast thou been?"
"I did but go without to fetch this log. The night hath grown cold, and I was but bethinking me of the sir knight's comfort," Zenas explained.