The sound of his native language made a new man of Brand. His senses were no longer dazed.
“It is—already locked,” he answered.
She took a step forward, and before he could divine her purpose sank gently on one knee in a wonderful courtesy. He took the slim white hand, and bowed low over it.
“You are Ughtred of Tyrnaus?” she said, eagerly. “Is it not so?”
He laughed quietly.
“It is the first time,” he said, “that I have been asked the question. Personation seems to come natural to me.”
She looked at him intently, and the fine, dark eyebrows were drawn a little closer together.
“I am not very quick at speaking English,” she said. “You are Ughtred of Tyrnaus?”
“Well, I am supposed to be,” he admitted.