"Hie, man," interrupted Sir George, "we have a serious charge preferred against thee; thou art just come right to answer it."
"Have I been stealing some fair maiden's heart?" he laughingly inquired.
"Nay, listen! 'tis a charge of murder; but I tell thee frankly, I don't believe a word of it."
"A charge of murder," echoed Manners blankly, "a charge of murder, and against me! This is past endurance, 'tis monstrous! Whom have I slain, I pray thee tell me?"
"The Derby packman," promptly returned De la Zouch, "and thou knowest
I saw thee do it."
"You lie. I never saw the man until he was dead. Thou shalt prove thy words, Sir Henry de la Zouch," returned the esquire, "or I shall have thee branded as a knave. There is some cause for this, Sir George," he added, turning to the baron, "of which I am in ignorance. I am the victim of some plot."
"Like enough, like enough," returned the baron, sympathetically. "Then you deny the charge? I knew De la Zouch was wrong. The ordeal—"
"But I saw him myself, and so did Eustace," stuck out the disappointed lover; "and Margaret remembers that Master Manners was left behind."
"And for the matter of that, so were you," said Sir George sharply.
"And Eustace is but a page who must, perforce, obey his master's will in everything," continued Manners. "Crowleigh was with me all the day, save when I went back to Mistress Dorothy. How tallies that with your account, eh?"