He led him into the hall where Merlin lay, and stood pointing with his sword.
“Dost know that hound, Knollys?”
“No, by my God!”
“Look closer. Whose ring is that—there, on the crooked hand?”
Knollys stooped, and then straightened, as though dumbfounded.
“The King’s ring!”
“Even so—the King’s ring. And these were the King’s men, these footpads and brothel-sweepings led by that damned priest. We fought and beat them, and they tried to burn the house about us. And this grey hound carried the King’s ring. Strange happenings, Knollys! Stranger still, who was it that betrayed us?”
Knollys started round with a face like thunder.
“Fulk Ferrers, you speak as though you charged me with this.”
“I charge the whole world—till I know the truth. Who brought us here? How was it the place was empty? Who betrayed the secret to Merlin? Who gave Merlin the King’s ring?”