’It appears, Jehane, that I am something of a prophet.  Your late master, the Melek Richard, has fallen into the power of his enemies; he is now a prisoner of the Archduke’s on many charges:  first, the killing of your brother Eudo, Count of Saint-Pol; but that is a very trifling affair, which occurred, moreover, in fair battle.  Next, they accuse him—­falsely, as you know—­of the death of Montferrat.  We may have our own opinion about that.  But the prime matter, as I guess, is ransom, and whether those who wish him ill (not for what he has done to them, but for what he has not allowed them to do to him) will suffer him to be ransomed.  Now, what have you to say, my child?  I see that it affects you.’

Jehane was affected, but not as you might expect.  With great self-possession she had a very practical mind.  There were neither tears nor heart-beatings, neither panic nor flying of colours.  Her eyes sought the Old Man’s and remained steadily on them; her lips were firm and red.

‘What are you willing to do, sire?’ she asked him.  Sinan stroked his fine beard.

‘I can dispose of the business of Montferrat in a few lines,’ he said, considering.  ’More, I can reach the Melek and assure him of comfort.  What I cannot do so easily, though I admit no failure, mind, is to induce his enemies at home to allow of a ransom.’

‘I can do that,’ said Jehane, ‘if you will do the rest.’  The Old Man patted her cheek.

’It is not the custom of my nation to allow wives abroad.  You, moreover, are not of that nation.  How can I trust the Melek, who (I know) loves you?  How can I trust you, who (I know) love the Melek?’

‘Oh, sire,’ says Jehane, looking him full in the face, ’I came here because I loved my lord Richard; and when I have assured his safety I shall return here.’  She looked down, as she added—­’For the same reason, and for no other.’

‘I quite understand you, child,’ said the Old Man, and put his hand under her chin.  This made her blush, and brought up her face again quickly.

‘Dear sire,’ she said shyly, ’you are very kind to me.  If I had another reason for returning it would be that.’  Sinan kissed her.

‘And so it shall be, my dear,’ he assured her.  ’There is time enough.  You shall certainly go, due regard being had to my dignity, and your health, which is delicate just now.’

‘Have no fear for me, my lord,’ she said.  ‘I am very strong.’  He kissed her again, saying, ’I have never known a woman at once so beautiful and so strong.’

He wrote two letters, sealing them with his own signet and that of King Solomon.  To the Archduke he said curtly—­

’To the Archduke Luitpold, Vetus de Monte sends greeting.  If the Melek Richard be any way let in the matter of his life and renown, I bid you take heed that as I served the Marquess of Montferrat, so also I shall serve your Serenity.’

But the Emperor demanded more civil advertisement:  he got a remarkably fine letter.