"For myself, I fear not," I answered. "My only fear was for the boy; I would not have him harmed." And I turned my head to look at Oliver, who with wide eyes was surveying the scene before him.
"Thou needst not worry," he replied; "he is as safe as though he were in his father's house."
"Where is the priest?" I asked. "It is strange that he is not here. I would have thought that he would be the first to come."
The Count smiled. "I looked to see him here too," he answered, "but perhaps he would not come for fear that thou wouldst kill him. He fears thee as though thou wert the foul fiend himself," and he finished with a laugh.
"He has good cause to," I said grimly. "If I had but given him his deserts, he would have been now where no revelry could disturb him."
"He is a strange fellow," DeNortier said musingly, as though half to himself, stroking his pointed black beard. "I picked him up in London, five years ago; he had been expelled from the monastery for drunkenness, and was adrift without chart or compass, when I discovered him. But he has well requited me for my trouble, for he is a useful fellow, and true as steel to me."
I looked at him; it might be that I could win him to my side, or if I could but make him distrust Dunraven, it would be a good night's work.
"Be not so sure of that," I answered.
He started and peered at me, a look of suspicion upon his face.
"Why dost thou say that?" he cried. "Dost know aught of what thou speakest?"