"Silence!" shouted the duke, shocked and indignant at this
glaring disrespect, "and answer truthfully the questions put to
you. Your name, you say, is Sir Norman Kingsley?"
"Yes. Has your grace any objection to it?"
His grace waved down the interruption with a dignified wave of
the hand, and went on with were judicial dignity.
"You are the same who shot Lord Ashley between this and the city,
some hours ago?"
"I had the pleasure of shooting a highwayman there, and my only
regret is, I did not perform the same good office by his
companion, in the person of your noble self, before you turned
and fled."
A slight titter ran round the room, and the duke turned crimson.
"These remarks are impertinent, and not to the purpose. You are
the murderer of Lord Ashley, let that suffice. Probably you were
on your way hither when you did the deed?"
"He was," said the dwarf, vindictively. "I met him at the Golden
Crown but a short time after."
"Very well, that is another point settled, and either of them is
strong enough to seal his death warrant. You came here as a spy,
to see and hear and report - probably you were sent by King
Charles?"
"Probably - just think as you please about it!" said Sir Norman,
who knew his case was as desperate as it could be, and was quite
reckless what he answered.
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