From somewhere in
the distance came the rhythmic snores of scurvy knaves getting their
eight hours.
Softly Yvonne unbolted a small door, and, passing through it, Agravaine
found himself looking up at the stars, while the great walls of the
castle towered above him.
'Good-bye,' said Yvonne.
There was a pause. For the first time Agravaine found himself
examining the exact position of affairs. After his sojourn in the
guarded room, freedom looked very good to him. But freedom meant
parting from Yvonne.
He looked at the sky and he looked at the castle walls, and he took a
step back towards the door.
'I'm not so sure I want to go,' he said.
'Oh, fly! Fly, Sir Knight!' she cried.
'You don't understand,' said Agravaine. 'I don't want to seem to be
saying anything that might be interpreted as in the least derogatory to
your father in any way whatever, but without prejudice, surely he is
just a plain, ordinary brigand? I mean it's only a question of a
ransom? And I don't in the least object--'
'No, no, no.' Her voice trembled. 'He would ask no ransom.'
'Don't tell me he kidnaps people just as a hobby!'
'You don't understand. He--No, I cannot tell you. Fly!'
'What don't I understand?'
She was silent. Then she began to speak rapidly. 'Very well. I will
tell you. Listen.
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