As John Markham had surmised would be the case, he found two persons seated at supper. One was the so-called Italian music master, and the other was doubtless the person who had passed as his son. But, with a single glance of an almost terrified swiftness, the falconer was able to pierce the disguise. For all her close-clipt curls and her boy’s dress, the second occupant of the room was undoubtedly his young mistress.
In spite of the fact that the falconer was fully prepared for the discovery he had made, he uttered a cry.
Signor Bandinello sprang to his feet.
“What is your pleasure?” he asked sharply, and in an English as pure as any man need wish to use.
For an instant, the two men stood looking at one another blankly, while Anne’s dismay was so great that she could neither speak nor move. But each of these men had recognized the other already.
Beyond a doubt this was the man the falconer sought. Also this was the servant of Sir John Feversham, whom Gervase had encountered in the meadow.
Gervase laid his hand to his sword.
“Nay, sir,” said Markham, simply. “I am here as your friend, and as—and as the humble servant of my mistress.”
The sound of the falconer’s voice broke the spell that had been laid upon Anne. She rose from the table, and in spite of all that she had undergone of suffering, something of the old imperiousness was in her tone.
“What do you here, John Markham?”