“In the stocks?”
I stepped back a pace or two and gazed at the man in blank astonishment.
“Aye,” he added hastily. “He had been stunned as he entered the stable door. Ten minutes later we found him with a broken head in the stocks, and the key is missing!”
Still I could do nothing but stare stupidly at the fellow, until the silence following his words was broken by a low laugh from behind me. I turned quickly at the sound.
In the doorway upon my left, and so close that she must have heard every word between us, stood my lady. And at the sight of her a sudden rage possessed me.
“So, madam!” I cried passionately. “I believe I have to thank you for this.”
I could not make out her face clearly, for she stood in the shadow of the doorway—only her white-robed figure and her sparkling eyes.
“For what, sir?” she replied in a voice in which amusement struggled with contempt. “For stealing your horses?”
“That and this other outrage!” I continued, striving to hide my mortification, and succeeding, I fear, but ill. “’Twas done by your orders and you know by whom.”
Again she laughed mockingly, a laugh that stung me worse than any words of scorn.