If not discovered at that awful moment when Lord Mortimer's hand was actually upon the bunch of grapes beneath which lay the spring, they surely need not fear any other manoeuvre on his part.
And at last the long search ended.

Even the Lord of Mortimer had to own himself beaten.

Reluctantly and with scowling brow he followed the prior back to the long banqueting hall, where the tables had already been laid with savoury viands.

He had been worsted where he had been most confident of success, and he was as furious as a bear robbed of her whelps.
The prior was taking Sir Oliver by the hand and speaking words of goodwill, professing great satisfaction at the result of this stringent search; his only vexation being that the monk had contrived to give them the slip.

In the back of his head the prior had a lurking feeling that Sir Oliver had been in some sort concerned in Brother Emmanuel's escape, and was rejoicing at it; but inasmuch as he had entirely failed to bring home any charge against him, and as in all other respects he was a good neighbour and true son of the Church, he was willing enough to restore him to favour and confidence, and was not sorry on the whole that the haughty Lord of Mortimer was not going to have it all his own way.
The astute ecclesiastic knew very well that he himself did better for holding a neutral position between two adversaries both desiring his friendship and good opinion, than he would do were Chad and Mortimer to be in the same hands.