"Holy St. Denis! Lord Darby!"
For a space he stood looking down upon him; then motioning toward the house he went within, and behind him Dauvrey and the guard bore the captive—and none too easy were their hands.
In the front room De Lacy put down the candle.
"Release him," he ordered… "So, sir, you search for the Countess of Clare in company with her abductor. Truly, it is wondrous strange you have not found her. Tell me, my lord, might it be that though we missed the servant we got the master?"
"What I can tell you, my French upstart," Darby retorted, "is that this night's work will bring you heavy punishment."
"Forsooth! From whom?"
"From me perchance; from the King surely."
De Lacy laughed disdainfully. "You always were a braggart, I have heard; yet you will need all your wits to save your own head when arraigned before him."
"Arraigned! Save my head! These are queer expressions for such as you to use to a Peer of England."
"No more queer than for a Peer of England to be an abductor of women."