The knight and his followers crossed the threshold, leaving one of the torch-bearers behind them. His job as a painter was wearing him down acutely as he aged. But never mind that," said McClintock grinning as he drew the dish of bread-fruit toward him. ’ Gerald raised his brows. Mac—the old gossip—knew about everything going on in that part of the world; and if Enschede was anything up to the picture the girl had drawn, McClintock would have heard of him, naturally. They left the castle that day for another, packing with them the leftovers of the troupe that followed them from place to place, never asking about the occasional disappearance of one of its unlucky members.
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