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To abuse him in his own argot was to make him loose his bag of mice in a flash. "Bachouar yourself, Maitre Ranulph! You'll find out soon. No news no trouble eh! Par made, Mattingley's gone to the Vier Prison he! The baker's come back, and the Connetable's after Olivier Delagarde.
Pish, you silly apes!" the young man said, glancing through the open doorway again to where the connetable's men were dragging two vile-looking ruffians into the Vier Prison. "What's happened, monsieur?" said Ranulph, closing the door and bolting it. "What was it, monsieur?" asked Guida anxiously, for painful events had crowded too fast that morning.
To abuse him in his own argot was to make him loose his bag of mice in a flash. "Bachouar yourself, Maitre Ranulph! You'll find out soon. No news no trouble eh! Par made, Mattingley's gone to the Vier Prison he! The baker's come back, and the Connetable's after Olivier Delagarde.
"That connetable's got no more wit than a square bladed knife," he rattled on. "But gache-a-penn, I'm hungry!" And as he ran he began munching a lump of bread he took from his pocket. For the next five minutes they went on in silence.
Pish, you silly apes!" the young man said, glancing through the open doorway again to where the connetable's men were dragging two vile-looking ruffians into the Vier Prison. "What's happened, monsieur?" said Ranulph, closing the door and bolting it. "What was it, monsieur?" asked Guida anxiously, for painful events had crowded too fast that morning.
"There's been the devil to pay," said Dormy as he ran towards the shore, his sabots going clac clac, clac clac. "There's been the devil to pay in St. Heliers, boy." He spoke scarcely above a whisper. "Tcheche what's that?" said Ranulph. But Dormy was not to uncover his pot of roses till his own time. "That connetable's got no more wit than a square bladed knife," he rattled on.
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