His face grew hard as he muttered:—­

“Her ladyship! may all the saints in the calendar watch over her ladyship!  But I wish she had never taken you at your hot-headed word.  Then we would not have launched upon this madcap adventure.”

I grew stern.  “Her ladyship, I bid you remember, my worthy man, is our mistress, and it ill behooves you to question her commands, especially in the presence of a groom.”

Michael growled, and then the sudden turn in the road startled our horses on a gallop, and for a quarter of an hour we thrashed our way ahead in the twilight.  We had entered a small thicket when an ejaculation from Arnold—­who had been riding abreast—­brought us all up to a sharp standstill.

“There’s a light,” said the groom, in a most tranquil manner, pointing his heavy crop stick to the left.  How we had missed seeing the inn from the crest of the hill was strange.  A hundred yards away stood a low, red-tiled house, with lights burning downstairs, and an unmistakable air of hostlery for man and beast.  We veered at once in our course, and in a few minutes were hallooing for the host or the hostler.

“Now I hope that you are satisfied, my friend,” I said exultantly to Michael, who only grunted as he swung off his animal.  Arnold followed, and soon we were chatting with an amiable old man in a white cap and apron, who had run out of the house when we shouted.

“Amboise?” he answered me when I told him of our destination.  “Amboise; why, sirrah, you are a good five leagues from Amboise!  Step within and remain here for the night.  I have plenty of convenience for you and your suite.”

I glanced at Michael, but he was busily employed in loosening his pistols from the holster, and Arnold, in company with a lame man, led the horses to the stable.  There was little use in vain regrets.  The other had the start of the half-day, and surely we could go no further that night.  I gritted my teeth as the little fat landlord led us into the house.

In half an hour we were smoking our pipes before a lively fire—­the night had grown chilly—­and enjoying silent recollections of a round of beef and several bottles of fortifying burgundy.

Our groom had gone to bed, and I soon saw that I could get nothing out of Michael for the present.  He stared moodily into the fire.  I noticed that his pistols were handy.  The host came in and asked my permission to join us.  He felt lonely, he explained, for he was a widower, and his only son was away in the world somewhere.  I was very glad to ease myself with gossip; my heart was not quite at peace with this expedition of ours.  I knew what her ladyship asked of us was much, so much that only a bold spirit and a thirst for the unknown could pardon the folly of the chase.

I bade the innkeeper to take a seat at the fire, and soon we fell to chatting like ladies’ maids.  He was a Norman and curious as a cat.  He opened his inquiries delicately.