There's not a knight in Europe but would spit upon you as a dastard, or a common wench but would turn you her back! You cannot fly!" "Nay, fool, but he can die--and before to-morrow.

What makes your brain so dull, Nicholas?
It is not its wont." "Ah, I see--not flight, murder.

I had forgotten; it is not a usual sauce to a banquet of honour even in Italy, and therefore, perhaps, the safer to serve.

But how is it to be done?
Poison?
He is in Carleon's house; Carleon has faithful servants.

Though perhaps a basket of rare fruits--but then he might not eat them; those Englishmen live mostly on half-raw meat.