consideration of Rosamund--only, indeed, the consideration of his
future--had set a curb upon his own bloodthirsty humour.

When he had washed the wound he fetched some table linen from a press
and ripped it into strips with his dagger; he threaded out one of these
and made a preliminary crisscross of the threads across the lips of the
wound--for the blade had gone right through the muscles of the breast,
grazing the ribs; these threads would help the formation of a clot.
Then with the infinite skill and cunning acquired in the course of his
rovings he proceeded to the bandaging.

That done, he opened the window and flung out the blood-tinted water.
The cloths with which he had mopped the wound and all other similar
evidences of the treatment he cast upon the fire. He must remove all
traces even from the eyes of Nicholas. He had the most implicit trust
in the old servant's fidelity. But the matter was too grave to permit
of the slightest risk. He realized fully the justice of Lionel's fears
that however fair the fight might have been, a thing done thus in secret
must be accounted murder by the law.

Bidding Lionel wrap himself in his cloak, Sir Oliver unbarred the door,
and went upstairs in quest of a fresh shirt and doublet for his brother.
On the landing he met Nicholas descending. He held him a moment in talk
of the sick man above, and outwardly at least he was now entirely
composed. He dispatched him upstairs again upon a trumped-up errand
that must keep him absent for some little time, whilst himself he went
to get the things he needed.

He returned below with them, and when he had assisted his brother into
fresh garments with as little movement as possible so as not to disturb