“Here, my lady, we have two hobs who have come to loggerheads as to which is best disposed to the King. Garlinge, let Master Hungerford speak.” Garlinge removed his massive hand from his prisoner’s mouth, and Paul, after gaping like a fish for some seconds, gasped out,
“Lady, you know well enough how you have befooled us.”
Brilliana stared upon him, bewitchingly unembarrassed by the charge.
“Manners, master,” cried Halfman, angrily, “or I’ll manner you.”
Brilliana daintily deprecated his heat.
“Wait, wait,” she said. “First of all, are you a loyal subject of the King?”
Master Paul rubbed his chin dubiously. “That is as it may be,” he muttered.
Brilliana tapped the table. “Faint hesitation is flat treason,” she cried. Turning to Halfman, she commanded, “Write him down for a confessed Roundhead.”
Master Paul clawed towards her excitedly.