"A stormstayed traveller," he said, his eyes fawning, "who has stumbled on this princely hospitality.
My name at your honour's service is Gabriel Lovel." There was a second of dead silence and then the boy laughed.

It was merry laughter and broke in strangely on the tense air of the room.
"Lovel," he cried, and there was an Irish burr in his speech.

"Lovel! And that fool Jobson mistook it for Lovat! I mistrusted the tale, for Simon is too discreet even in his cups to confess his name in a changehouse.

It seems we have been stalking the cailzie-cock and found a common thrush." The dark man Talbot did not smile.

"We had good reason to look for Lovat.