Here are the horses, and we had best be gone, for by this time my lord and his physician may have their heads together again." I mounted Black Lamoral, and lifted Mistress Percy to a seat behind me.
The brown mare bore the minister and the negress, and Diccon, doggedly silent, trudged beside us.
We passed through the haunted wood and the painted forest beyond without adventure.

We rode in silence: the lady behind me too weary for speech, the minister revolving in his mind the escape of the Italian, and I with my own thoughts to occupy me.

It was dusk when we crossed the neck of land, and as we rode down the street torches were being lit in the houses.

The upper room in the guest house was brightly illumined, and the window was open.

Black Lamoral and the brown mare made a trampling with their hoofs, and I began to whistle a gay old tune I had learnt in the wars.