He patted her cheek with careless kindliness. "How wise of you, my dear! How wise! Then you are not yet—sufficiently ennuyée to desire to leave me?"
"Why—why do you ask?" questioned Toby.
There was a species of malicious humour about him that made her uneasy. Saltash in a mischievous mood was not always easy to restrain. He did not immediately reply to her question, and she turned with a hint of panic and tightly clasped his arm.
"It is—you who are—ennuyé!" she said, with piteous eyes upraised.
He flicked her cheek with his thumb, his odd eyes gleaming. "Not so, Miladi Saltash! For me—the game is just begun. But—should you desire to leave me—the opportunity is yours. A knight has arrived to the rescue—a very puissant knight!"
"A knight!" gasped Toby, trembling. "Ah! Tell me what you mean!"
His look was openly mocking. "A knight in gaiters!" he told her lightly. "A knight who bears—or should bear—a horsewhip in place of a sword—that is, if I know him aright!"
"Jake!" she gasped incredulously.
He laughed afresh. "Even so! Jake! Most worthy—and most obtrusive! What shall we do with him, lady mine? Slay him—or give him a feed and send him home?"
She stared at him, aghast. "You—you—you are joking!" she stammered.