Sir John Dering: A romantic comedy

by Jeffery Farnol

“An’ me asleep! I waked but the noo an’ ne’er a sign o’ her. Whaur is she, John?”

“I don’t know.”

“Man, I’ve sought all o’er the inn, aye, an’ the stables too, an’ never a glimpse o’ her——”

“Strange!” mused Sir John, brushing chin with the feather of his pen. “Odd ... and yet quite comprehensible——”

“Ha, d’ye think so? Well, I ask ye whaur’s the lass?”

“And I answer that I do not know.”

“John, is it the truth ye’re tellin’ me?” Sir John laid down his pen and stared. “Well, can ye no’ speak? Whaur is she? What hae ye done wi’ her?”

“Hector,” answered Sir John softly, “I am not in the habit of lying, nor of permitting my word to be doubted by any man——”

“Aye, but I’m no’ juist ‘ony man’—I’m Hector Lauchlan MacLean o’ Duart! Aye, an’ I mind o’er weel y’r damnable reputation!”