It was more than probable, too, that De Maupas had already broached his plan to Sir John, and, meeting with a rebuff, had bethought him of Edgar and hoped to obtain his aid in persuading his master. The more Edgar thought over the scheme, however, and the more he stripped it of its trappings of pretended love and romance, the more he felt it to be every whit as shameful as the first plan by which De Maupas had sought to obtain the Wolsingham lands by threats and violence.
"What is to be your answer to my generous offer, young sir?" said De Maupas at length. He still paced slowly to and fro the length of the cell, and his bearing was as easy and confident as ever. Edgar, however, had been not unheedful of the quick furtive glances he had cast at him every now and again as he turned in his stride.
"I will have no part in this matter, De Maupas," Edgar replied quickly. "I trust thee not, and much of thy story I cannot believe. More than that, I am not ready to purchase my life at another's expense."
"It is Sir John's life, too, that thou art casting away like a fool," cried De Maupas angrily.
"Sir John hath, I doubt not, already told thee that he prefers death to dishonour. I, his esquire, say the same, on both his account and my own."
A malignant look flamed up on the knight's face, and Edgar knew that he had judged his plans and motives aright.
"Death thou certainly shalt have, boy--I have sworn it long since," cried De Maupas furiously, placing his hand on his dagger as though he longed to carry his threat into instant execution. "But if thou think'st to obtain an honourable death with thy blood coursing warmly through thy veins, thou wilt be mistaken. Slowly, inch by inch, in silence and despair, shalt thou die--not with the plaudits of thousands ringing in thine ears as when, like a mad fool, thou didst brave my lifelong anger. Bah! I shall yet see thee blench and, cringing at my feet, beg for thy life and a glimpse of open air and sky. I can tell thee that the past has shown that these monkish walls have a secret of their own for crushing wills stronger far than thine."
As he spoke the last few words the knight eyed Edgar with a gaze so stern and menacing that it seemed as though he hoped by its very intensity to cow him into submission.
"Never will I cringe to thee, Gervaise de Maupas," cried Edgar hotly, returning him look for look.
"We shall see," growled De Maupas savagely, as he turned sharply on his heel and left the cell, jerking the door to with a dull crash behind him.