"What matters it?" asked the Count, impatiently.
"He is the man," said Luke positively. "He must have learned the wisdom of the East; and has made some infernal compound that tears rocks and splinters them. I wish we had hung the shaven-pated wretch while we had him! But you would let him go, my lord."
"Yes," the Count answered boldly, "and would again. I meddle not with the gray, black, or brown friars. It brings bad luck, and I'll none of it. Why, once I did but cause one of them to be flogged and sent about his business when he came begging about my castle-gate, and, Luke, within a fortnight I did sprain my wrist and lost a favorite hawk! I send them about their business still, but I harm them not."
"If we fail to take the castle," Luke broke out, "it will be through the gray-coated friar—mark me—my lord, for I do not jest. I hope he has no more such infernal contrivings to let loose upon us, for not a man of all our force will stir abroad this night. And while we are idling here, who knows what is doing at the castle? They will be but laggard if they do not at least clear out the moat again."
But Luke was wrong. Hugh was too cautious to risk his men in the open. He feared that the
