“ Let it go,” said the boy, Nick Wogan. “The land crawls with them and we cannot go rat-hunting when we are aiming at a throne.” He picked up l***l's ring and spun it on a finger tip. “The gentleman has found more than news in the north. He has acquired a solid lump of gold.”
The implication roused Mr. l***l out of his embarrassment. “I wear the ring by right. I had it from my father.” His voice was tearful with offended pride
“ The creature claims gentility,” said Talbot, as he examined the trinket. “l***l you call yourself. But l***l bears barry nebuly or chevronels. This coat has three plain charges. Can you read them, Nick, for my eyes are weak! I am curious to know from whom he stole it.”
The boy scanned it closely. “Three of something I think they are fleur-de-lys, which would s
