"I'll do it willingly, my lord," the young knight acquiesced, and thereupon began narrating his adventures. It took him an hour or more to finish, during all of which time Lord Douglas sat quietly beside him, with his elbows planted firmly upon his knees and his face pressed against the palms of his hands. At times he would run his fingers through his hair, or tap with the heel of his boot upon the floor. Sir Richard's tale ran smoothly enough till it came to the point of accounting for de Claverlok's companionship. Here he stumbled slightly, being obliged to draw largely upon his imagination. He accomplished it in a fairly acceptable manner, however, and in a way that he hoped would seem natural. Though he was unable to see how harm could befall either the grizzled knight or himself in the event of the truth being told. Not for a moment had he credited his companion's statement in respect of Henry's message containing matter inimical to its bearer. But he paid the veteran the tribute of believing him to be absolutely sincere, and forgave him accordingly, absolving him from any blame because of that which Sir Richard supposed to be his misjudged zeal in attempting to withhold the delivery of the parchment.
When the young knight had finished his story, Douglas arose and took a few turns across the room.
"Extraordinary," he kept repeating half to himself; "most extraordinary!"
Presently he resumed his seat before the desk, remaining silent there for awhile, and tapping with his fingers upon its polished top.
"Thou canst not appreciate, I know," he said at length, "how completely thy story hath absorbed my interest. I would that I could delve beneath the surface and unearth some of its mysteries. Tut, tut! What am I saying? Let them take care of themselves. Full often have I found, Sir Richard, that the deepest mysteries of to-day become the most loudly heralded sensations of to-morrow. Now, an thou'lt but sign thy name across the back of this parchment, I'll take thee into the presence of the lady of the castle. But—hold! I'll have witnesses."
Then—"MacGregor," he called aloud, and in reply to his summons a lank individual arose above a tall desk standing in a corner of the cabinet quite as though he had been materialized out of a world of spirits. Douglas whispered his instructions in the scrivener's ear, and he hurried away, presumably to gather them in.
They entered presently—ten of them there were—mumbling, whispering, shaking their powdered heads in a kind of unison, till the white dust sifted upon the floor like particles of glittering snow. Standing somberly in line behind a long table, awaiting turns to set their names beneath Sir Richard's, they reminded him of a row of solemn, nodding jackdaws. Not being in a position to appreciate its gravity, the scene amused rather than awed the young knight. Not in the remotest degree did he surmise that he was henceforth to be but a wooden image—a carved knight, if we may be allowed the simile—progressing obediently from square to square over the checkered board of a complex conspiracy whenever they extended their lean fingers to make the move.
"Remain," Lord Douglas said, when the last of them had written his name beneath the young knight's. "Await my return and we'll hold further council here," whereupon he took Sir Richard's arm, expressing his intention of presenting him to the lady of the castle.
"Now that I have delivered the King's message, my lord," said the young knight as they were passing along the gallery and down the stairs, "it is my desire to be soon upon my way. On the morrow, an there be nothing further here for me to do, I shall fare southward toward Kenilworth."
"Tut, tut! Sir Richard. Be not in such haste to bid us adieux. We are a right merry throng here in Castle Yewe, and thou canst pass thy hours with us full pleasantly. Thy errand, besides, is not yet done. 'Tis thy sovereign's wish that thou shalt bide in Scotland yet awhile as my guest. But yonder is Lady Douglas, to whom I shall surrender thee for the present."