"It is I, Uros," said the man in a muffled tone; "open your door, my love."
"Liar," shouted Uros from behind, and with a bound he had jumped upon the man and, gripping him by the nape of the neck and by the collar of his jacerma, he tugged at him and dragged him away from the door.
As the man struggled to free himself, Uros recognised him to be
Vranic—Vranic the ghost-seer, Vranic the spy.
"How dare you come here in my name, you scoundrel," said the young man, and giving him a mighty shake, that tore the strong cloth of the jacket, he cast him away.
"And pray what are you doing here at this time of the night?" asked
Vranic, his hand on the haft of his knife.
"And what is that to you—are you her husband or her kinsman? But as you wish to know, I'll tell you; I came to protect her from a dastardly coward like yourself."
"I doubt whether Radonic will be glad to hear that you go sneaking into his house at the dead of night, just to keep his wife from any harm; that is really good of you." And Vranic, standing aloof, burst out laughing. Then he added, "Anyhow, he'll be most grateful to you when he knows it."
"And who'll tell him?"
"I shall."
"If I let you, you spy."