“Madame—mother, the game is not done.”
She stepped forward, swept the pieces off the board, her face like stone. Falconbridge rose incontinently and went out, pushing past Fulk, who was standing in the passage.
“What means all this?”
“Son, there are words to be spoken between us, words that I for one would gladly not hear.”
He looked at her uneasily.
“What spoil-sport business is this?”
She stretched out a closed hand, and, opening her fingers suddenly, showed the ring lying in her palm.
“Richard, this was lost to you. Take back your own.”
They were watching him, and they saw his lower lip loosen, his eyes grow shallow with a kind of fear.
“That ring of mine! I had mislaid it.”