"Oho!" said the officer, "that is all that you have done to his grace! I
would advise you, sir, not to play the fool with me. We know very well
what you have done; but we would know from you how and when you did it."

Master Richard said nothing to that. He felt very light in the head,
what with his wounds and the bad air, and the strangeness of the
position. He knew that he was smiling, but he could not prevent it. His
smiling angered the man.

"You dare smile at me, sir!" he cried. "I will teach you to smile!"--and
he struck the table with his hand, so that the ink-horn danced upon it.

"I cannot help smiling," said Master Richard. "I think I am faint, sir."

One of the men shook him by the arm, and Master Richard's sense came
back a little.

When he could see again clearly (for just now the face of the officer
and the woodwork behind him swam like images seen in water),
Master-Lieutenant had a little bottle in his hand. He bade Master
Richard look upon it and asked him what it was.

"I think it to be my Quinte Essence" said Master Richard.

"You acknowledge that then!" cries the man. "And what is Quinte
Essence?"

"It is distilled of blood" said Master Richard.