He laughed.
“So, then, you know where the pretty one has flown? I warrant thee, if thou couldst see her at this moment, thou wouldst see my master not a bow-shot away. Ha! ha! I do not say nearer; for when I left, the fair vixen still held him at arm’s length. But he is getting on; and now, since the maid’s lover is dead—”
“He is not dead,” said I; “I parted from him scarce a month ago!” And I told him where and how.
He shrugged his shoulders.
“A fig for his life if that be his case,” said he. “At any rate he is believed to be dead; and the Captain, as I say, is getting on, having made himself monstrous civil to Turlogh Luinech O’Neill, who, I think, favours him somewhat for a son-in-law.”
“The foul dog!” I exclaimed. “Would I had him standing here, for my friend’s sake. Tell me, Tom, what of a little maid who went from London as waiting gentlewoman to the lady. How fares she?”
“Sadly, I hope, since she and I are parted,” said he. “For, to tell you the truth, Master Dexter, she is the sweetest wench and hath looked kindly on me. Indeed, ’twas for this reason I think my master sent me off here on this business to get him more men. For he is apt to amuse himself, while he waits for the mistress, with the maid; and I doubt when I return I shall find the little witch hath clean forgotten how to smile on me.”
I hope I may be forgiven the words I uttered when I heard this. I flew at honest Tom Price like a wolf and cried: “Why, what mean you, hound? What does he dare to do?”
Tom shook me off roughly, and pulled out his sword.
“Look ’ee here, Master Humphrey, if that be the way you ask your questions, your ribs shall know the way I answer them.”