"English," said he. "Sir Malcolm du Findley." He made a hideous rattling noise but from somewhere deep in his soul the power came to make him go on. "El Iskandariya. Big ship. Full of rats."
"What's he burbling about?" asked the deep voice of Godwin. "Poor devil's clean out of his head. Rats? Did rats do this to him?"
"Rats are full of plague," said Sir Malcolm faintly.
"Yes, yes," said the girl. "Ship full of rats, rats full of plague. Go on."
"Can a rat have the plague?" asked Godwin.
"Well, can it?" asked the girl. "Mihrjan, answer me."
A fourth voice, one like muted thunder over distant dunes, said, "Assuredly, O Mistress of My Life, though 'tis not known generally by men in this time."
"He knows it, evidently," said the girl. "Do go on, Sir Malcolm. What about these rats?"
"Ship at El Iskandariya. Going to England, spread plague, decimate whole country. No more Crusades. Saracen plot."
"Now by God and by God, no Saracen stoops that low!" shouted the elderly man.