heard that idea advanced once
before in France--or maybe it was in Italy."

"Doubtless--but the present proof of it is yonder," De Wilton answered,
nodding toward the window. "The Countess has just gone for a ride with
Darby."

De Lacy looked up from the dagger he was idly polishing on his doublet
sleeve.

"And the proof in particular is what?" he asked. "Her costume, her
horse, or her escort?"

"I gave her the horse," said De Wilton.

"That absolves the horse, and as it could not be the costume, it must
be . . ."

De Wilton brought his fist down on the bancal with a smash.

"Darby--and may the Devil fly away with him! . . . Oh! it is not
jealousy," catching Aymer's quick glance. "We were children together
at her father's castle, and she is like a sister to me."

"And so, as usual, ignores a brother's advice touching her suitors?" De
Lacy observed.

"Touching only this one."

"Then you should feel flattered."

"I offered no advice as to any other."

Aymer sheathed the dagger and adjusted his cloak.

"I suppose," said he, "one may assume you are not over-fond of Darby."

De Wilton nodded. "That you may--and yet if you were to ask my reasons
I could give none, save a thorough detestation."

"And the Countess has asked for the reason?"

"Many times."

De Lacy laughed. "I see," he said. "Now tell me about this Darby--I
think you mentioned he was not of the Household."

"Thank Heaven, no--or I would not be of it. He has some power in the
West Riding, and came by special summons of the Duke. But that
business ended two days ago--it is the Countess that holds him now."

"Well," said De Lacy, "I, too, would linger if it meant a ride with the
Countess of Clare and the favor that implies."

"Oh, as to that, he is favored no more than a dozen others. What irks
me is that she favors him at all."

"What would you say if I, too, tried for a smile?" De Lacy asked.

De Wilton ran his eyes very deliberately over the handsome figure
beside him.

"That you will win it," he said, "and may be more than one--and the
chains that trail behind. . . Beware, the chains are very heavy."

De Lacy shook his head. "Strong they may be--strong as life--but
heavy, never."

Sir Ralph looked at him in wondering surprise--then clapped him on the
shoulder.

"French skies and French blood! Pardieu, man, go in and show this
Darby and the others how the game is played."

"But the chains------"

"Wrap them ab