‘Now, who thinkest thou in thy heart did lock the door upon thee?’

‘Might it not have been Satan himself, my lord?’

’Nay, I cannot tell what might or might not be where such a one is so plainly concerned.  But I believe he was only acting in his usual fashion, which, as a matter of course, must be his worst—­I mean through the heart and hands of some one in the house who would bring thee into trouble.’

‘I would it were the other way, my lord.’

’So would I heartily.  In his own person I fear him not a whit.  But hast thou no suspicion of any one owing thee a grudge, who might be glad on such opportunity to pay it thee with interest?’

’I must confess I have, my lord; but I beg of your lordship not to question me on the matter further, for it reaches only to suspicion.  I know nothing, and might, if I uttered a word, be guilty of grievous wrong.  Pardon me, my lord.’

Lord Herbert looked hard at his wife.  Lady Margaret dropped her head.

‘Thou art right, indeed, my good cousin!’ he said, turning again to Dorothy; ’for that would be to do by another as thou sufferest so sorely from others doing by thee.  I must send my brains about and make a discovery or two for myself.  It is well I have a few days to spend at home.  And now to the first part of the business in hand.  Hast thou any special way of calling thy dog?  It is a moonlit night, I believe.’

He rose and went to the window, over which hung a heavy curtain of Flemish tapestry.

‘It is a three-quarter old moon, my lord,’ said Dorothy, ’and very bright.  I did use to call my dog with a whistle my mother gave me when I was a child.’

‘Canst thou lay thy hand upon it?  Hast thou it with thee in Raglan?’

‘I have it in my hand now, my lord.’

’What then with the moon and thy whistle, I think we shall not fail.’

‘Hast lost thy wits, Ned?’ said his wife.  ’Or what fiend wouldst thou raise to-night?’

‘I would lay one rather,’ returned lord Herbert.  ’But first I would discover this same perilous fault in the armour of my house.  Is thy genet still in thy control, Dorothy?’

’I have no reason to think otherwise, my lord.  The frolicker he, the merrier ever was I.’

‘Darest thou ride him alone in the moonlight—­outside the walls.’

‘I dare anything on Dick’s back—­that Dick can do, my lord.’

‘Doth thy dog know Caspar—­in friendly fashion, I mean?’

’Caspar is the only one in the castle he is quite friendly with, my lord.’

’Then is all as I would have it.  And now I will tell thee what I would not have:  I would not have a soul in the place but my lady here know that I am searching with thee after this dog-and-man hole.  Therefore I will saddle thy little horse for thee myself, and—­’

‘No, no, my lord!’ interrupted Dorothy.  ‘That I can do.’