"Think, Marriott. The promise may have been made at Aylingford Abbey."
"Do you mean Mistress Lanison?"
Rosmore nodded his head slowly.
"Ah, yes, I did make some kind of promise," said Marriott. "A gallantry,
Rosmore, and I would make my words good if I had the chance."
"And the bribe?" Rosmore asked.
"As you have just said, that can be no concern of yours."
"That is not so certain. It happens that you have the chance. Mistress
Lanison is in Dorchester—a prisoner."
Marriott sprang to his feet.
"The devil! Who had her arrested?"
Rosmore shrugged his shoulders.