that. In the master's chair sat a man of about thirty, dark-skinned, with
dense black hair and eyes, one leg somewhat malformed, the knee being
bowed and the foot turned slightly inward. He looked the troubadour over
with a sarcastic smile. Ranulph was still in riding-dress, and might have
been mistaken for a joglar or wandering minstrel, calling himself by the
more dignified title of troubadour or trouvere.

"I think," began the knight in a harsh drawl, "that one can often do no
better than to tell the truth, is it not so? I am the lord of this castle-
-for the present. Of course I could not refuse you admittance, or you
might go off and spread inconvenient rumors. I must ask you therefore to
accept our hospitality unquestioning, like a courteous guest. We cannot
allow you to depart until we ourselves are gone. You have your choice--to
remain here quietly, alive, or to remain permanently, dead.

"Naturally you will not communicate with any ladies whom you may see, but
if you can afford them some entertainment you shall be paid. They have had
but a dull time thus far, I fear, and I would not have them think us
barbarians, soldiers of fortune though we are. When I am through with this
castle I shall leave it as I found it, except for the temporary detention
of the inmates in various rooms, where I suppose they will stay until some
one finds them. If anybody is found dead it will be his own fault. Now,
which horn of the dilemma is your choice--troubadour?"

During this extraordinary speech Ranulph had done some rapid thinking.
From the man's appearance he believed him to be Garin de Biterres. The
castle had evidently been taken by surprise after the Count's party had
escorted the maidens thither and ridden away. Perhaps the marauders had
been lurking somewhere about awaiting the opportunity. They must know that
they could not hold it after the friends of the rightful lord knew what