HUGH TALBOT (sitting by fire). And you never thought, maybe, that in that keg there was powder enough to blow the bridge of Cashala to hell?
JOHN TALBOT. It seemed a matter of small moment, sir.
HUGH TALBOT. Small moment! Powder enough, put case ye set it there, at the stairhead—d'ye follow me?—powder enough to make an end of Cashala Bridge for all time—aye, and of all within the Gatehouse. You never thought on that, eh?
JOHN TALBOT. We had so much to think on, sir.
HUGH TALBOT. I did suspect as much. So I came hither to recall the powder to your minds.
DRISCOLL. We thought—(BUTLER motions him to be silent.) We thought maybe you would not be coming at all, sir. Maybe you would be dead.
HUGH TALBOT. Well? What an if I had been dead? You had your orders. You did not dream of giving up the Bridge of Cashala—eh, Myles Butler?
BUTLER (after a moment). No, sir.
HUGH TALBOT. Nor you, Dick Fenton?
FENTON. Sir, I—No!