All sign of levity vanished from Count Bertrich's face as he turned again to the Black Count.
"Although the exhibition we have been favoured with is interesting," he said, "I do not understand what bearing it has upon the point we were discussing. Do you accept challenge, or shall I intercede with my Lord the Archbishop to grant you the terms formerly recited by me?"
"Tell the Archbishop that the glove has been pinned to my floor by five shafts, piercing the points of its five members; there it will remain until his Lordship contritely enters this hall on his knees and pulls them out with his teeth. When he does this and delivers up Count Bertrich to my hangman he shall have peace."
Count Bertrich, again without salutation, turned his back upon the company, and left the apartment while the archer gazed with admiration on Black Heinrich, whose language had no mincing diplomacy about it, but stood stoutly for a quarrel.
CHAPTER XIV. A RELUCTANT WELCOME.
After Count Bertrich's unceremonious departure, Heinrich stood by the table with black brows, in the attitude of one who listened intently. No one in the room moved or spoke, and in the silence there came from the courtyard the noise of horse's hoofs on stone—first the irregular stamping of an animal struck or frightened by an impatient master, then the rhythmical clatter of the canter, gradually diminishing until it lapsed beyond the hearing. The shutting of the gates with a clang seemed to arouse the master of Thuron. He drew a deep breath and glared about him fiercely, like a man ill-pleased, but determined.
"Steinmetz," he said, gruffly, "have you three men who can be trusted?"
"I should hope, my Lord, that we have many."