The Duke of Devonshire was as proud as my patron; and nothing in the great mansion which he was then building in the wilds of the Derbyshire Peak was likely to cause the gaping peasants more astonishment than he felt at this setback. "I don't understand your Grace," he said, at last, in a tone of marked offence.
"Nor I you," my lord answered, thoroughly roused.
"I am afraid--I have said too much," said the other, stiffly.
"Or too little," my lord retorted. "You must go on now."
"Must? Must?" quoth the Duke, whose high spirit had ten years before led him to strike a blow that came near to costing him his estate.
"Ay, must--in justice," said my lord. "In justice to me as well as to others."
After a brief pause, "That is another thing," answered the Lord Steward civilly. "But--is it possible, Duke, that you know so much, and do not know that Sir John asserts that you met him at Ashford two days only before his capture, and entrusted him with a ring and a message--both for St. Germain's?"
"At Ashford?"
"Yes."
"This is sheer madness," my lord cried, holding his hand to his head. "Are you mad, Devonshire, or am I?"