"St. Denis, I forgot. It was you she walked with," said Aymer.
De Wilton stared at him. "Are you quite sane?" he asked.
De Lacy linked his arm within the other's. "Come over to the window and I will tell you how, last night, Sir Ralph de Wilton chanced to walk with the Countess of Clare on the ramparts of Pontefract."
"And I suppose then it was you, and not I, who talked with the Duchess in her presence chamber all the time the Countess of Clare was gone."
"No, I was on the ramparts, too," De Lacy answered. "Listen—here is the tale."
"Good!" exclaimed De Wilton at the end. "She punished Darby well—I wish I could have seen it; and it cut him to the raw, for all his suave indifference." Suddenly he struck the wall sharply. "And yet—she rides with him to-day. St. George! We are back where we started. Women are queer creatures!"
Just then Sir James Dacre stopped at the corridor door.
"Who is for a ride?" he asked.
"I am," said De Lacy, "if Sir Ralph will excuse me."
De Wilton nodded. "Go, by all means; it was good of you to keep me company even for a moment."