around to the mounting block. Dorothy was going to ride, and I supposed
she would prefer me to the new servant as a companion.

I asked Thomas if his mistress were going out for a ride, and he replied
affirmatively.

"Who is to accompany her?" I asked.

"She gave orders for me to go with her," he answered.

"Very well," I responded, "take your horse back to the stable and fetch
mine." The man hesitated, and twice he began to make reply, but finally he
said:--

"Very well, Sir Malcolm."

He hitched Dolcy to the ring in the mounting block and started back toward
the stable leading his own horse. At that moment Dorothy came out of the
tower gate, dressed for the ride. Surely no woman was ever more beautiful
than she that morning.

"Tom-Tom, where are you taking the horse?" she cried.

"To the stable, Mistress," answered the servant. "Sir Malcolm says he will
go with you."

Dorothy's joyousness vanished. From radiant brightness her expression
changed in the twinkling of an eye to a look of disappointment so
sorrowful that I at once knew there was some great reason why she did not
wish me to ride with her. I could not divine the reason, neither did I
try. I quickly said to Thomas:--

"Do not bring my horse. If Mistress Vernon will excuse me, I shall not
ride with her this morning. I forgot for the moment that I had not
breakfasted."

Again came to Dorothy's face the radiant look of joy as if to affirm what
it had already told me. I looked toward Thomas, and his eyes, too, were
alight. I could make nothing of it. Thomas was a fine-looking fellow,
notwithstanding his preposterous hair and beard; but I felt sure there
could be no understanding between the man and his mistress.

When Thomas and Dorothy had mounted, she timidly ventured to say:--

"We are sorry, Cousin Malcolm, that you cannot ride with us."

She did not give me an opportunity to change my mind, but struck Dolcy a
sharp blow with her whip that sent the spirited mare galloping toward the
dove-cote, and Thomas quickly followed at a respectful distance. From the
dove-cote Dorothy took the path down the Wye toward Rowsley. I, of course,
connected her strange conduct with John. When a young woman who is well
balanced physically, mentally, and morally acts in a strange, unusual
manner, you may depend on it there is a man somewhere behind her motive.

I knew that John was in London. Only the night before I had received word
from Rutland Castle that h