"I must go first to my cousin's house," said Ella, eagerly. "'Twill not take long to run thither and return. There are many things that I must take with me."
"You can pass round there as you go," replied Woodville; "less time will be lost, and there is none to spare. Here, host," he cried. "Host, I say!" But the host was not to be found; and one of the chamberlains, running up as the young knight and his followers stood under the arch, demanded, "What's your will, sir?"
"At what time are the city gates closed?" asked Richard of Woodville. "I have to levy men at Bruges for the service of the Duke, and must send some of my people on tonight."
"They do not shut till ten, sir, in this time of peace," replied the chamberlain; "so you have more than an hour; but even after that, an order from the cyndic will open them."
"That will do," replied Richard of Woodville; "they must set out at once."
A moment after, the horses were brought round, with the mule which Ella Brune had ridden from Nieuport, and placing her carefully thereon, the young knight gave some orders to his men in a low tone, added some money for their expenses, and with a kindly adieu to Ella, saw them depart. He then directed two of his archers to superintend the immediate removal of his baggage to the apartments which had been assigned him in the Graevensteen, to see to the care of the horses, and to rejoin him without loss of time. After which, followed by the rest of his attendants, he took his way back to the old castle of the counts of Flanders, and sought the chamber in the basement of one of the towers, which had been pointed out for his own by the Count of Charolois.
At the door stood a stout man-at-arms, whom Woodville had placed there that night after his meeting with Sir John Grey; for it may be necessary to mention here, what we did not pause to notice before, that the young knight had returned with Dyram to the Graevensteen to seek for his men, as soon as he heard of the danger which menaced poor Ella Brune.
Opening the door of the chamber, Richard of Woodville went in, and found Dyram seated at the table with his head leaning on his arms. He moved but slightly when his master entered, and Woodville, casting himself into a seat opposite, gazed at him for a moment with a stern and angry brow.
"Lookup, sir," he said at length; "in your terror and haste to remedy the evil you have caused, you have spoken too much not to speak more. You once boasted of telling truth. Tell it now, as the only means of escaping punishment."
"Is she saved?" asked Ned Dyram, raising his head, and gazing in his young master's face with a look of eager anxiety. "Is she saved? I care for nought else."