He turned his horse's head and retraced his path up the vennel.

"Now what in God's name is afoot to-night ?" he asked himself, and the bay tossed his dainty head, as if in the same perplexity.

He was a fine animal with the deep barrel and great shoulders of the Norman breed, and no more than his master did he love this place of alarums and stenches.
Gaspard de Laval was a figure conspicuous enough even in that city of motley.

For one thing he was well over two yards high, and, though somewhat lean for perfect proportions, his long arms and deep chest told of no common strength.

He looked more than his thirty years, for his face was burned the colour of teak by hot suns, and a scar just under the hair wrinkled a broad low forehead.