“Is that the sword with which you fought Lord Pembroke?”
“That? Yes.”
“Let me look at it. Strange that such bodkin can be so deadly.”
He took it for a whim of hers, and humored her, hiding the pity in his eyes.
“Why, it is not much heavier than a gentleman’s cane!”
She held it in her two hands, balancing it, and looking at the silver work upon the sheath. John Gore watched her, grave-eyed and compassionate.
“It is said that the sword suits itself to the age.”
“Oh!” And she drew back innocently, step by step.
“Broad and trenchant; slim and subtle.”
“Then you would call this a sword for a treacherous hand?”