There came the sound of a bolt
shooting into its socket. A key turned in the lock. He was trapped.
Outside, the earl had seized his daughter by the wrist and was
administering a paternal cross-examination.
'What were you saying to him?'
Yvonne did not flinch.
'I was bidding him fly.'
'If he wants to leave this castle,' said the earl, grimly, 'he'll have
to.'
'Father,' said Yvonne,' I can't.'
'Can't what?'
'I can't.'
His grip on her wrist tightened. From the other side of the door came
the muffled sound of blows on the solid oak. 'Oh?' said Earl Dorm.
'You can't, eh? Well, listen to me. You've got to. Do you understand? I
admit he might be better-looking, but--'
'Father, I love him.'
He released her wrist, and stared at her in the uncertain light.
'You love him!'
'Yes.'
'Then what--? Why? Well, I never did understand women,' he said at
last, and stumped off down the passage.
While this cryptic conversation was in progress, Agravaine, his worst
apprehensions realized, was trying to batter down the door. After a few
moments, however, he realized the futility of his efforts, and sat down
on the bed to think.
At the risk of forfeiting the reader's respect, it must be admitted
that his first emotion was one of profound relief. If he was locked up
like this, it must mean that that dragon story was fictitious, and that
all danger was at an end of having to pit his inexperience against a
ravening monster who had spent a lifetime devouring knights.
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