As she spoke she rose, and went towards her sleeping chamber.  Then first Richard became aware that for some time he had been hearing a scratching and whining.  She opened the door, and out ran a wretched-looking dog, huge and gaunt, with the red marks of recent wounds all over his body, and his neck swathed in a discoloured bandage.  He went straight to Richard, and began fawning upon him and licking his hands.  Miserable and most disreputable as he looked, he recognised in him Dorothy’s mastiff.

‘My poor Marquis!’ he said, ’what evil hath then befallen thee?  What would thy mistress say to see thee thus?’

Marquis whined and wagged his tail as if he understood every word he said, and Richard was stung to the heart at the sight of his apparently forlorn condition.

‘Hath thy mistress then forsaken thee too, Marquis?’ he said, and from fellow-feeling could have taken the dog in his arms.

‘I think not so,’ said mistress Rees.  ’He hath been with her in the castle ever since she went there.’

‘Poor fellow, how thou art torn!’ said Richard.  ’What animal of thine own size could have brought thee into such a plight?  Or can it be that thou hast found a bigger?  But that thou hast beaten him I am well assured.’

Marquis wagged an affirmative.

’Fangs of biggest dog in Gwent never tore him like that, master Heywood.  Heark’ee now.  He cannot tell his tale, so I must tell thee all I know of the matter.  I was over to Raglan village three nights agone, to get me a bottle of strong waters from mine host of the White Horse, for the distilling of certain of my herbs good for inward disorders, when he told me that about an hour before there had come from the way of the castle all of a sudden the most terrible noise that ever human ears were pierced withal, as if every devil in hell of dog or cat kind had broken loose, and fierce battle was waging between them in the Yellow Tower.  I said little, but had my own fears for my lord Herbert, and came home sad and slow and went to bed.  Now what should wake me the next morning, just as daylight broke the neck of the darkness, but a pitiful whining and obstinate scratching at my door!  And who should it be but that same lovely little lapdog of my young mistress now standing by thy knee!  But had thou seen him then, master Richard!  It was the devil’s hackles he had been through!  Such a torn dishclout of a dog thou never did see!  I understood it all in a moment.  He had made one in the fight, and whether he had had the better or the worse of it, like a wise dog as he always was, he knew where to find what would serve his turn, and so when the house was quiet, off he came to old mother Rees to be plaistered and physicked.  But what perplexes my old brain is, how, at that hour of the night, for to reach my door when he did, and him hardly able to stand when I let him in, it must have been dead night when he left—­it do perplex me, I say, to think how at that time of the night he got out of that prison, watched as it is both night and day by them that sleep not.’