yours and mine, my lord — have met with sudden and mysterious death. Men stared, but they ended by calling it a dispensation of Providence.” He broke off to laugh with silent, hateful laughter, as mirthful as the grin of a death’s-head.

“I know, I know!” said my lord impatiently. “We are not overnice, Nicolo. But between me and those who then stood in my way there had passed no challenge. This is my mortal foe, through whose heart I would drive my sword. I would give my ruby to know whether he’s in the town or in the forest.”

“He’s in the forest,” I said.

Black Lamoral and the brown mare were beside them before either moved hand or foot, or did aught but stare and stare, as though men and horses had risen from the dead. All the color was gone from my lord’s