"I have heard of him."
"Then you will do him this service," said Stefan.
"Give him the key, and say that if he has lost his servant, this key fits a certain cellar door in a certain lodging by the Western Gate. He will guess which lodging. His servant, loving wine too much, lies behind that cellar door, howling for his liberty."
"I'll take the message."
"Here's for refreshment by the way," said Stefan, tossing him the key and a coin. "Monsieur De Froilette will reward you liberally, I warrant."
"And who shall I say gave me the key?"
"Say a woman you met by the road, if your conscience will sanction the lie; if not, say a man, and word my picture as you please so that you make it handsome enough. But do not fail to deliver the message, for the man behind that door is slowly dying, and, if you do not go to his rescue, will surely curse you from his grave."
"What does this mean, Stefan?" Ellerey asked, as the troop rode on, laughing at their companion.
"Francois was watching us, and saw the boy who carried your message to me yesterday. He came to question me, thinking me a fool, and went with me to the cellar to hear my story and to drink your wine. He got no story, and little wine for that matter, unless the ropes have slipped from his wrists and ankles. I tied him securely before I made him free of all the cellar contained. He'll be wanting food badly by to-morrow, when his master finds him."
"It was well done, Stefan. We want no spies about us; but why should
Monsieur De Froilette spy upon me?"