His manner was that of a medieval conqueror.

He looked neither to right nor to left, but kept his eyes straight ahead, ignoring the islanders as completely as if they did not exist.
"It's more like a Christian Endeavour meeting than it was ten minutes ago," he was saying to himself, all the time wondering when some reckless unbeliever would hurl a knife at his back.

He gravely winked his eye in the direction of the chateau.

"Good old Britt!" he muttered in his exultation..