Things hung for a moment in an awkward silence. The inn was a military haunt. She saw marks in the dirt where he had been pacing. “Ye Gods!” she said at last. ’ ‘Yolande, my maid?’ ‘You don’t need a maid,’ Martha said stoutly. ‘When we met probably, and you threatened me at the first. Ennison listened, and his eyes glowed. ‘Why, that’s it. “I’ve been thinking—all the afternoon. In the northwest angle, there was a small pen for female offenders, and, on the south, a more commodious enclosure appropriated to the master-debtors and strangers.
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