Rolf steadied his horse, then was silent for awhile as he wiped his blade with unhurried carefulness.
"Dost see the plot, Ned?" he asked grimly, with another glance at the fallen horseman.
"Nay, I see only that Nell is in peril all this while—and that the Ratcliffes had need to rid them of a fool, since they sent him here to meet so plain a death."
"He came, this same fool, to taunt thee into going to Wildwater, if I can read the matter—came to make sure that we should do just what thou wast so hot to do just now.—God, Ned! She shall lie soft to-night—how the foul words stick——"
"Ned, is there no end to it—no end to it?" broke in Mistress Wayne, clinging tight to his hand and keeping her eyes away from the body lying in the roadway just without.
"Get thee within-doors, bairn; 'tis no fit place for thee."
"Not unless thou'lt come, too. Ned, I'll not have thee ride to Wildwater—keep within shelter while thou canst——"
But her step-son shook off her hand. "Rolf," he said, coming to the gate and trying to read the other's face, "wilt come with me now to Wildwater?"
Wayne of Cranshaw straightened himself in the saddle and gathered the reins with a firmer grip. "Nay, for we'll make sure—we'll go neither by ones nor twos, but take our whole force with us. Hast had supper, Ned? No? Well, thou need'st it if thou'rt to fight a second time to-day; so let the lads go fetch our kin from Hill House. I'll ride to Cranshaw for my folk, and we'll all fare up together."
"Nay, we'll not wait—" began Ned.