“Saracen ‘ll teach him things,” he said. “I might warn him, but it’s best for the horses to make their own impressions.”
“What name, sir?” asked a footman.
“You are—?”
“Falby, Sir.”
“Falby, look after my man Brillon here, and take me to Sir William.”
“What name, sir?”
Gaston, as if with sudden thought, stepped into the light of the candles, and said in a low voice: “Falby, don’t you know me?”
The footman turned a little pale, as his eyes, in spite of themselves, clung to Gaston’s. A kind of fright came, and then they steadied.
“Oh yes, sir,” he said mechanically.
“Where have you seen me?”