'I must confess I have, my lord; but I beg of your lordship not to question me on the matter further, for it reaches only to suspicion. I know nothing, and might, if I uttered a word, be guilty of grievous wrong. Pardon me, my lord.'
Lord Herbert looked hard at his wife. Lady Margaret dropped her head.
'Thou art right, indeed, my good cousin!' he said, turning again to Dorothy; 'for that would be to do by another as thou sufferest so sorely from others doing by thee. I must send my brains about and make a discovery or two for myself. It is well I have a few days to spend at home. And now to the first part of the business in hand. Hast thou any special way of calling thy dog? It is a moonlit night, I believe.'
He rose and went to the window, over which hung a heavy curtain of
Flemish tapestry.
'It is a three-quarter old moon, my lord,' said Dorothy, 'and very bright. I did use to call my dog with a whistle my mother gave me when I was a child.'
'Canst thou lay thy hand upon it? Hast thou it with thee in Raglan?'
'I have it in my hand now, my lord.'
'What then with the moon and thy whistle, I think we shall not fail.'
'Hast lost thy wits, Ned?' said his wife. 'Or what fiend wouldst thou raise to-night?'
'I would lay one rather,' returned lord Herbert. 'But first I would discover this same perilous fault in the armour of my house. Is thy genet still in thy control, Dorothy?'