The Earl turned and looked at his ancient friend. The wrinkles about
the brow were deeply ironical now, and the grey eyes of the master
armourer twinkled with appreciation of his jest.

"Malise," cried his master, warningly, "do not play at cat's cradle
with the Douglas. You might tempt me to that I should afterwards be
sorry for. A man once dead comes not to life again, whatever monks
prate. But tell me, how knew you whither I had gone yester-even? For,
indeed, I knew not myself when I set out. And in any event, was it a
thing well done for my foster father to spy upon me the son who was
also his lord?"

The anger was mostly gone now out of the frank young face of the Earl,
and only humiliation and resentment, with a touch of boyish curiosity,
remained.

"Indeed," answered the smith, "I watched you not save under my hand as
you rode away upon Black Darnaway, and then I turned me to the seat by
the wall to listen to the cavillings of Dame Barbara, the humming of
the bees, and the other comfortable and composing sounds of nature."

"How then did you come to follow me in the undesirable company of my
uncle the Abbot?"

"For that you are in the debt of my son Sholto, who, seeing a lady
wait for you in the greenwood, climbed a tree, and there from amongst
the branches he was witness of your encounter."

"So--" said the Douglas, grimly, "it is to Master Sholto that I am
indebted somewhat."