“I opened the door,” said Mungo, much perturbed.
“For what?” said Doom shortly.
“There was a knock.”
“I heard it. The knock was obvious; it dirled the very roof of the house. But it was not necessary to open at a knock at this time of morning; ye must have had a reason. Hospitality like that to half-a-dozen rogues from Arroquhar, who had already made a warm night for ye, was surely stretched a little too far. What did ye open for?”
Mungo seemed to range his mind for a reply. He looked to Montaiglon, but got no answer in the Frenchman's face; he looked over Montaiglon's shoulder at Olivia, standing yet in the tremour of her fears, and his eye lingered. It was no wonder, thought Count Victor, that it lingered there.
“Come, come, I'm waiting my answer!” cried Doom, in a voice that might have stirred a corps in the battlefield.
“I thought there wasna mair than ane,” said Mungo.
“But even one! At this time of morning! And is it your custom to open to a summons of that kind without finding out who calls?”
“I thought I kent the voice,” said Mungo, furtively looking again at Olivia.
“And whose was it, this voice that could command so ready and foolish an acquiescence on the part of my honest sentinel Mungo Boyd?” asked Doom incredulously.