"'Tis a tournament, not a murder," decided Doll promptly; "you have proved your cause, and if your foe will yield we are ready to spare him."
Amid the plaudits of the crowd, Manners bowed low upon his knee, kissed the hand held graciously out towards him. He murmured his perfect acquiescence to her will, and was about to pass out of the ring, an easy victor, when a horseman rode in, and without in anyway announcing himself, he sprang off his horse and scanned the company.
"What does this fellow want?" growled Sir George, as with knitted eyebrows he scrutinised the intruder. "Thou art a Royal messenger," he added, turning to the man, who had advanced until he stood before the baron.
There was little sympathy between the Court at London and the King of the Peak, and the baron surmised little good from the arrival of the courtier. As the latter urged his horse through the crowd, and entered the arena, Sir George anticipated trouble.
"I want the King of the Peak," replied the new comer.
"I am Sir George Vernon."
"Then," replied the other, "I deliver into thine hand this summons, which cites thee to appear at Westminster to answer the charge of slaying Mary Durden."
The baron started with surprise, and thought for a moment of laying violent hands upon the man, but a moment's reflection convinced him of the unwisdom of such an act.
"And if I refuse to come," he doggedly said, "what then?"
"Then you do so at your peril," he replied, and leaping again upon his horse, he departed as suddenly as he had appeared, leaving the awe-stricken assembly to disperse with much less pleasure than they had anticipated from the scene of such an exciting exhibition of manly prowess.