They were riding excellent horses, unblown, and in good condition--the which, when I asked how they came by such noble steeds, they said that a man gave them to them.
"Jorian," said I, sharply, "where have you been ?" "To the city of Thorn," said he, more briskly than was his wont, so that I knew he had tidings to communicate.
"Saw you the Lady Helene ?" I asked, eagerly, of them.
He shook his head, yet pleasantly.
"Nay," said he, "I saw her not.

The Red Tower is not a healthy place for men of Plassenburg, nor yet the White Gate and the house of Master Gerard von Sturm.

But Mistress Helene is in safety, so much Boris and I are assured of." "Not with Von Reuss ?" cried I, fear thrilling sudden in my voice that he had stolen her and now held her in captivity.
Boris held up his hand as a signal that I must not hurry his companion, who was clearly doing his best.
"She is with Gottfried Gottfried, the old man, your father, and is safe." "Did she go to them of her own free will, or did my father send for her ?" I went on, for much depended upon that question.
"Nay," answered Jorian, "that I know not.

But certainly she is with him, and safe.

The Count, too, is with his uncle, and they say also safe--under lock and key." "Good!" quoth Boris.
"Let us all three go back to Plassenburg forthwith!" cried I.
"Good!" chorussed both of them together, unanimously slapping their thighs.