“My cousin Brilliana?” Randolph asked. “What of my joke?”
Rufus spoke very solemnly.
“The one thing now is to save a man’s life. Ride hard, and God speed you.” Randolph yielded cheerfully.
“Well, well, I should be sorry the rebel dog should die wrongfully. You will justify me to the King for not attending him?”
Rufus nodded.
“I will justify you to his Majesty.”
“And not a word to Brilliana,” Randolph iterated. “I will have my joke on my return. Farewell.”
He muffled himself again and went out quickly. Rufus sat biting the end of his quill. Halfman stepped forward and made him a series of extravagant salutations, which parodied the most elaborate congees of a dancing-master. Rufus glared at him.
“What is the matter with you?” he asked, savagely. Halfman leered apishly at him.
“You are a splendid scoundrel,” he vowed. “Do not frown. I have lived with such and I speak in praise.”