initial commit of ebook 3030HEADmain

2 files changed, 9489 insertions, 0 deletions

diff --git a/old/tavrn10.txt b/old/tavrn10.txt
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..66a9b3d
--- /dev/null
+++ b/old/tavrn10.txt
@@ -0,0 +1,9489 @@
+The Project Gutenberg Etext of The Tavern Knight
+by Rafael Sabatini
+(#10 in our series by Rafael Sabatini)
+
+Copyright laws are changing all over the world, be sure to check
+the laws for your country before redistributing these files!!!
+
+Please take a look at the important information in this header.
+We encourage you to keep this file on your own disk, keeping an
+electronic path open for the next readers.
+
+Please do not remove this.
+
+This should be the first thing seen when anyone opens the book.
+Do not change or edit it without written permission.  The words
+are carefully chosen to provide users with the information they
+need about what they can legally do with the texts.
+
+
+**Welcome To The World of Free Plain Vanilla Electronic Texts**
+
+**Etexts Readable By Both Humans and By Computers, Since 1971**
+
+*These Etexts Prepared By Hundreds of Volunteers and Donations*
+
+Information on contacting Project Gutenberg to get Etexts, and
+further information is included below.  We need your donations.
+
+Presently, contributions are only being solicited from people in:
+Texas, Nevada, Idaho, Montana, Wyoming, Colorado, South Dakota,
+Iowa, Indiana, and Vermont. As the requirements for other states
+are met, additions to this list will be made and fund raising will
+begin in the additional states. These donations should be made to:
+
+Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation
+PMB 113
+1739 University Ave.
+Oxford, MS 38655
+
+
+Title: The Tavern Knight
+
+Author: Rafael Sabatini
+
+Release Date: January, 2002  [Etext #3030]
+[Yes, we are about one year ahead of schedule]
+
+Edition: 10
+
+Language: English
+
+The Project Gutenberg Etext of The Tavern Knight
+by Rafael Sabatini
+******This file should be named tavrn10.txt or tavrn10.zip******
+
+Corrected EDITIONS of our etexts get a new NUMBER, tavrn11.txt
+VERSIONS based on separate sources get new LETTER, tavrn10a.txt
+
+This etext was prepared by Polly Stratton.
+
+Project Gutenberg Etexts are usually created from multiple editions,
+all of which are in the Public Domain in the United States, unless a
+copyright notice is included.  Therefore, we usually do NOT keep any
+of these books in compliance with any particular paper edition.
+
+We are now trying to release all our books one year in advance
+of the official release dates, leaving time for better editing.
+Please be encouraged to send us error messages even years after
+the official publication date.
+
+Please note:  neither this list nor its contents are final till
+midnight of the last day of the month of any such announcement.
+The official release date of all Project Gutenberg Etexts is at
+Midnight, Central Time, of the last day of the stated month.  A
+preliminary version may often be posted for suggestion, comment
+and editing by those who wish to do so.
+
+Most people start at our sites at:
+http://gutenberg.net
+http://promo.net/pg
+
+
+Those of you who want to download any Etext before announcement
+can surf to them as follows, and just download by date; this is
+also a good way to get them instantly upon announcement, as the
+indexes our cataloguers produce obviously take a while after an
+announcement goes out in the Project Gutenberg Newsletter.
+
+http://www.ibiblio.org/pub/docs/books/gutenberg/etext02
+or
+ftp://ftp.ibiblio.org/pub/docs/books/gutenberg/etext02
+
+Or /etext01, 00, 99, 98, 97, 96, 95, 94, 93, 92, 92, 91 or 90
+
+Just search by the first five letters of the filename you want,
+as it appears in our Newsletters.
+
+
+Information about Project Gutenberg (one page)
+
+We produce about two million dollars for each hour we work.  The
+time it takes us, a rather conservative estimate, is fifty hours
+to get any etext selected, entered, proofread, edited, copyright
+searched and analyzed, the copyright letters written, etc.  This
+projected audience is one hundred million readers.  If our value
+per text is nominally estimated at one dollar then we produce $2
+million dollars per hour this year as we release fifty new Etext
+files per month, or 500 more Etexts in 2000 for a total of 3000+
+If they reach just 1-2% of the world's population then the total
+should reach over 300 billion Etexts given away by year's end.
+
+The Goal of Project Gutenberg is to Give Away One Trillion Etext
+Files by December 31, 2001.  [10,000 x 100,000,000 = 1 Trillion]
+This is ten thousand titles each to one hundred million readers,
+which is only about 4% of the present number of computer users.
+
+At our revised rates of production, we will reach only one-third
+of that goal by the end of 2001, or about 3,333 Etexts unless we
+manage to get some real funding.
+
+Something is needed to create a future for Project Gutenberg for
+the next 100 years.
+
+We need your donations more than ever!
+
+Presently, contributions are only being solicited from people in:
+Texas, Nevada, Idaho, Montana, Wyoming, Colorado, South Dakota,
+Iowa, Indiana, and Vermont. As the requirements for other states
+are met, additions to this list will be made and fund raising will
+begin in the additional states.
+
+All donations should be made to the Project Gutenberg Literary
+Archive Foundation and will be tax deductible to the extent
+permitted by law.
+
+Mail to:
+
+Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation
+PMB 113
+1739 University Avenue
+Oxford, MS 38655  [USA]
+
+We are working with the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive
+Foundation to build more stable support and ensure the
+future of Project Gutenberg.
+
+We need your donations more than ever!
+
+You can get up to date donation information at:
+
+http://www.gutenberg.net/donation.html
+
+
+***
+
+You can always email directly to:
+
+Michael S. Hart <hart@pobox.com>
+
+hart@pobox.com forwards to hart@prairienet.org and archive.org
+if your mail bounces from archive.org, I will still see it, if
+it bounces from prairienet.org, better resend later on. . . .
+
+We would prefer to send you this information by email.
+
+
+Example command-line FTP session:
+
+ftp ftp.ibiblio.org
+login: anonymous
+password: your@login
+cd pub/docs/books/gutenberg
+cd etext90 through etext99 or etext00 through etext02, etc.
+dir [to see files]
+get or mget [to get files. . .set bin for zip files]
+GET GUTINDEX.??  [to get a year's listing of books, e.g., GUTINDEX.99]
+GET GUTINDEX.ALL [to get a listing of ALL books]
+
+
+**The Legal Small Print**
+
+
+(Three Pages)
+
+***START**THE SMALL PRINT!**FOR PUBLIC DOMAIN ETEXTS**START***
+Why is this "Small Print!" statement here?  You know: lawyers.
+They tell us you might sue us if there is something wrong with
+your copy of this etext, even if you got it for free from
+someone other than us, and even if what's wrong is not our
+fault.  So, among other things, this "Small Print!" statement
+disclaims most of our liability to you.  It also tells you how
+you can distribute copies of this etext if you want to.
+
+*BEFORE!* YOU USE OR READ THIS ETEXT
+By using or reading any part of this PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm
+etext, you indicate that you understand, agree to and accept
+this "Small Print!" statement.  If you do not, you can receive
+a refund of the money (if any) you paid for this etext by
+sending a request within 30 days of receiving it to the person
+you got it from.  If you received this etext on a physical
+medium (such as a disk), you must return it with your request.
+
+ABOUT PROJECT GUTENBERG-TM ETEXTS
+This PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm etext, like most PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm etexts,
+is a "public domain" work distributed by Professor Michael S. Hart
+through the Project Gutenberg Association (the "Project").
+Among other things, this means that no one owns a United States copyright
+on or for this work, so the Project (and you!) can copy and
+distribute it in the United States without permission and
+without paying copyright royalties.  Special rules, set forth
+below, apply if you wish to copy and distribute this etext
+under the Project's "PROJECT GUTENBERG" trademark.
+
+Please do not use the "PROJECT GUTENBERG" trademark to market
+any commercial products without permission.
+
+To create these etexts, the Project expends considerable
+efforts to identify, transcribe and proofread public domain
+works.  Despite these efforts, the Project's etexts and any
+medium they may be on may contain "Defects".  Among other
+things, Defects may take the form of incomplete, inaccurate or
+corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other
+intellectual property infringement, a defective or damaged
+disk or other etext medium, a computer virus, or computer
+codes that damage or cannot be read by your equipment.
+
+LIMITED WARRANTY; DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES
+But for the "Right of Replacement or Refund" described below,
+[1] the Project (and any other party you may receive this
+etext from as a PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm etext) disclaims all
+liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including
+legal fees, and [2] YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE OR
+UNDER STRICT LIABILITY, OR FOR BREACH OF WARRANTY OR CONTRACT,
+INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE
+OR INCIDENTAL DAMAGES, EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE
+POSSIBILITY OF SUCH DAMAGES.
+
+If you discover a Defect in this etext within 90 days of
+receiving it, you can receive a refund of the money (if any)
+you paid for it by sending an explanatory note within that
+time to the person you received it from.  If you received it
+on a physical medium, you must return it with your note, and
+such person may choose to alternatively give you a replacement
+copy.  If you received it electronically, such person may
+choose to alternatively give you a second opportunity to
+receive it electronically.
+
+THIS ETEXT IS OTHERWISE PROVIDED TO YOU "AS-IS".  NO OTHER
+WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, ARE MADE TO YOU AS
+TO THE ETEXT OR ANY MEDIUM IT MAY BE ON, INCLUDING BUT NOT
+LIMITED TO WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR A
+PARTICULAR PURPOSE.
+
+Some states do not allow disclaimers of implied warranties or
+the exclusion or limitation of consequential damages, so the
+above disclaimers and exclusions may not apply to you, and you
+may have other legal rights.
+
+INDEMNITY
+You will indemnify and hold the Project, its directors,
+officers, members and agents harmless from all liability, cost
+and expense, including legal fees, that arise directly or
+indirectly from any of the following that you do or cause:
+[1] distribution of this etext, [2] alteration, modification,
+or addition to the etext, or [3] any Defect.
+
+DISTRIBUTION UNDER "PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm"
+You may distribute copies of this etext electronically, or by
+disk, book or any other medium if you either delete this
+"Small Print!" and all other references to Project Gutenberg,
+or:
+
+[1]  Only give exact copies of it.  Among other things, this
+     requires that you do not remove, alter or modify the
+     etext or this "small print!" statement.  You may however,
+     if you wish, distribute this etext in machine readable
+     binary, compressed, mark-up, or proprietary form,
+     including any form resulting from conversion by word
+     processing or hypertext software, but only so long as
+     *EITHER*:
+
+     [*]  The etext, when displayed, is clearly readable, and
+          does *not* contain characters other than those
+          intended by the author of the work, although tilde
+          (~), asterisk (*) and underline (_) characters may
+          be used to convey punctuation intended by the
+          author, and additional characters may be used to
+          indicate hypertext links; OR
+
+     [*]  The etext may be readily converted by the reader at
+          no expense into plain ASCII, EBCDIC or equivalent
+          form by the program that displays the etext (as is
+          the case, for instance, with most word processors);
+          OR
+
+     [*]  You provide, or agree to also provide on request at
+          no additional cost, fee or expense, a copy of the
+          etext in its original plain ASCII form (or in EBCDIC
+          or other equivalent proprietary form).
+
+[2]  Honor the etext refund and replacement provisions of this
+     "Small Print!" statement.
+
+[3]  Pay a trademark license fee to the Project of 20% of the
+     gross profits you derive calculated using the method you
+     already use to calculate your applicable taxes.  If you
+     don't derive profits, no royalty is due.  Royalties are
+     payable to "Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation"
+     the 60 days following each date you prepare (or were
+     legally required to prepare) your annual (or equivalent
+     periodic) tax return.  Please contact us beforehand to
+     let us know your plans and to work out the details.
+
+WHAT IF YOU *WANT* TO SEND MONEY EVEN IF YOU DON'T HAVE TO?
+The Project gratefully accepts contributions of money, time,
+public domain etexts, and royalty free copyright licenses.
+If you are interested in contributing scanning equipment or
+software or other items, please contact Michael Hart at:
+hart@pobox.com
+
+*END THE SMALL PRINT! FOR PUBLIC DOMAIN ETEXTS*Ver.04.07.00*END*
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+THE TAVERN KNIGHT by Rafael Sabatini
+
+
+
+CONTENTS
+
+I.  ON THE MARCH
+
+II.  ARCADES AMBO
+
+III.  THE LETTER
+
+IV.  AT THE SIGN OF THE MITRE 
+
+V.  AFTER WORCESTER FIELD
+
+VI.  COMPANIONS IN MISFORTUNE
+
+VII.  THE TAVERN KNIGHT'S STORY
+
+VIII.  THE TWISTED BAR
+
+IX.  THE BARGAIN
+
+X.  THE ESCAPE
+
+XI.  THE ASHBURNS
+
+XII.  THE HOUSE THAT WAS ROLAND MARLEIGH'S
+
+XIII.  THE METAMORPHOSIS OF KENNETH
+
+XIV.  THE HEART OF CYNTHIA ASHBURN
+
+XV.  JOSEPH'S RETURN
+
+XVI.  THE RECKONING
+
+XVII.  JOSEPH DRIVES A BARGAIN
+
+XVIII.  COUNTER-PLOT
+
+XIX.  THE INTERRUPTED JOURNEY
+
+XX.  THE CONVERTED HOGAN
+
+XXI.  THE MESSAGE KENNETH BORE
+
+XXII.  SIR CRISPIN'S UNDERTAKING
+
+XXIII.  GREGORY'S ATTRITION
+
+XXIV.  THE WOOING OF CYNTHIA
+
+XXV.  CYNTHIA'S FLIGHT
+
+XXVI.  TO FRANCE
+
+XXVII.  THE AUBERGINE DU SOLEIL
+
+
+
+
+
+
+THE TAVERN KNIGHT By Rafael Sabatini
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+ON THE MARCH
+
+He whom they called the Tavern Knight laughed an evil laugh -
+such a laugh as might fall from the lips of Satan in a sardonic
+moment.
+
+He sat within the halo of yellow light shed by two tallow
+candles, whose sconces were two empty bottles, and
+contemptuously he eyed the youth in black, standing with white
+face and quivering lip in a corner of the mean chamber.  Then
+he laughed again, and in a hoarse voice, sorely suggestive of
+the bottle, he broke into song.  He lay back in his chair, his
+long, spare legs outstretched, his spurs jingling to the lilt
+of his ditty whose burden ran:
+
+          On the lip so red of the wench that's sped 
+          His passionate kiss burns, still-O! 
+          For 'tis April time, and of love and wine
+          Youth's way is to take its fill-O!
+          Down, down, derry-do!
+
+          So his cup he drains and he shakes his reins,
+          And rides his rake-helly way-O! 
+          She was sweet to woo and most comely, too, 
+          But that was all yesterday-O! 
+          Down, down, derry-do!
+
+The lad started forward with something akin to a shiver.
+
+"Have done," he cried, in a voice of loathing, "or, if croak
+you must, choose a ditty less foul!"
+
+"Eh?"  The ruffler shook back the matted hair from his lean,
+harsh face, and a pair of eyes that of a sudden seemed ablaze
+glared at his companion; then the lids drooped until those eyes
+became two narrow slits - catlike and cunning - and again he
+laughed.
+
+"Gad's life, Master Stewart, you have a temerity that should
+save you from grey hairs!  What is't to you what ditty my fancy
+seizes on?  'Swounds, man, for three weary months have I curbed
+my moods, and worn my throat dry in praising the Lord; for
+three months have I been a living monument of Covenanting zeal
+and godliness; and now that at last I have shaken the dust of
+your beggarly Scotland from my heels, you - the veriest milksop
+that ever ran tottering from its mother's lap would chide me
+because, yon bottle being done, I sing to keep me from waxing
+sad in the contemplation of its emptiness!"
+
+There was scorn unutterable on the lad's face as he turned
+aside.
+
+"When I joined Middleton's horse and accepted service under
+you, I held you to be at least a gentleman," was his daring
+rejoinder.
+
+For an instant that dangerous light gleamed again from his
+companion's eye.  Then, as before, the lids drooped, and, as
+before, he laughed.
+
+"Gentleman!" he mocked.  "On my soul, that's good!  And what
+may you know of gentlemen, Sir Scot?  Think you a gentleman is
+a Jack Presbyter, or a droning member of your kirk committee,
+strutting it like a crow in the gutter?  Gadswounds, boy, when
+I was your age, and George Villiers lived - "
+
+"Oh, have done!" broke in the youth impetuously.  "Suffer me to
+leave you, Sir Crispin, to your bottle, your croaking, and your
+memories."
+
+"Aye, go your ways, sir; you'd be sorry company for a dead man
+- the sorriest ever my evil star led me into.  The door is
+yonder, and should you chance to break your saintly neck on the
+stairs, it is like to be well for both of us."
+
+And with that Sir Crispin Galliard lay back in his chair once
+more, and took up the thread of his interrupted song
+
+          But, heigh-o! she cried, at the Christmas-tide,
+          That dead she would rather be-O!
+          Pale and wan she crept out of sight, and wept
+
+          'Tis a sorry -
+
+A loud knock that echoed ominously through the mean chamber,
+fell in that instant upon the door.  And with it came a panting
+cry of -
+
+"Open, Cris! Open, for the love of God!"
+
+Sir Crispin's ballad broke off short, whilst the lad paused in
+the act of quitting the room, and turned to look to him for
+direction.
+
+"Well, my master," quoth Galliard, "for what do you wait?"
+
+"To learn your wishes, sir," was the answer sullenly delivered.
+
+"My wishes!  Rat me, there's one without whose wishes brook
+less waiting!  Open, fool!"
+
+Thus rudely enjoined, the lad lifted the latch and set wide the
+door, which opened immediately upon the street.  Into the
+apartment stumbled a roughly clad man of huge frame.  He was
+breathing hard, and fear was writ large upon his rugged face. 
+An instant he paused to close the door after him, then turning
+to Galliard, who had risen and who stood eyeing him in
+astonishment - 
+
+"Hide me somewhere, Cris," he panted - his accent proclaiming
+his Irish origin.  "My God, hide me, or I'm a dead man this
+night!"
+
+"'Slife, Hogan!  What is toward?  Has Cromwell overtaken us?"
+
+"Cromwell, quotha?  Would to Heaven 'twere no worse!  I've
+killed a man!"
+
+"If he's dead, why run?"
+
+The Irishman made an impatient gesture.
+
+"A party of Montgomery's foot is on my heels.  They've raised
+the whole of Penrith over the affair, and if I'm taken, soul of
+my body, 'twill be a short shrift they'll give me.  The King
+will serve me as poor Wrycraft was served two days ago at
+Kendal.  Mother of Mercy!" he broke off, as his ear caught the
+clatter of feet and the murmur of voices from without.  "Have
+you a hole I can creep into?"
+
+"Up those stairs and into my room with you!" said Crispin
+shortly.  "I will try to head them off.  Come, man, stir
+yourself; they are here."
+
+Then, as with nimble alacrity Hogan obeyed him and slipped from
+the room, he turned to the lad, who had been a silent spectator
+of what had passed.  From the pocket of his threadbare doublet
+he drew a pack of greasy playing cards.
+
+"To table," he said laconically.
+
+But the boy, comprehending what was required of him, drew back
+at sight of those cards as one might shrink from a thing
+unclean.
+
+"Never!" he began.  "I'll not defile - "
+
+"To table, fool!" thundered Crispin, with a vehemence few men
+could have withstood.  "Is this a time for Presbyterian
+scruples?  To table, and help a me play this game, or, by the
+living God, I'll - "  Without completing his threat he leaned
+forward until Kenneth felt his hot, wine-laden breath upon his
+cheek.  Cowed by his words, his gesture, and above all, his
+glance, the lad drew up a chair, mumbling in explanation -
+intended as an excuse to himself for his weakness - that he
+submitted since a man's life was at stake.
+
+Opposite him Galliard resumed his seat with a mocking smile
+that made him wince.  Taking up the cards, he flung a portion
+of them to the boy, whilst those he retained he spread fanwise
+in his hand as if about to play.  Silently Kenneth copied his
+actions.
+
+Nearer and louder grew the sounds of the approach, lights
+flashed before the window, and the two men, feigning to play,
+sat on and waited.
+
+"Have a care, Master Stewart," growled Crispin sourly, then in
+a louder voice - for his quick eye had caught a glimpse of a
+face that watched them from the window - "I play the King of
+Spades!" he cried, with meaning look.
+
+A blow was struck upon the door, and with it came the command
+to "Open in the King's name!"  Softly Sir Crispin rapped out an
+oath.  Then he rose, and with a last look of warning to
+Kenneth, he went to open.  And as he had greeted Hogan he now
+greeted the crowd mainly of soldiers - that surged about the
+threshold.
+
+"Sirs, why this ado?  Hath the Sultan Oliver descended upon
+us?"
+
+In one hand he still held his cards, the other he rested upon
+the edge of the open door.  It was a young ensign who stood
+forward to answer him.
+
+"One of Lord Middleton's officers hath done a man to death not
+half an hour agone; he is an Irishman Captain Hogan by name."
+
+"Hogan - Hogan?" repeated Crispin, after the manner of one who
+fumbles in his memory.  "Ah, yes - an Irishman with a grey head
+and a hot temper.  And he is dead, you say?"
+
+"Nay, he has done the killing."
+
+"That I can better understand.  'Tis not the first time, I'll
+be sworn."
+
+"But it will be the last, Sir Crispin."
+
+"Like enough.  The King is severe since we crossed the Border."
+Then in a brisker tone: "I thank you for bringing me this
+news," said he, "and I regret that in my poor house there be
+naught I can offer you wherein to drink His Majesty's health
+ere you proceed upon your search.  Give you good night, sir."
+And by drawing back a pace he signified his wish to close the
+door and be quit of them.
+
+"We thought," faltered the young officer, "that - that
+perchance you would assist us by - "
+
+"Assist you!" roared Crispin, with a fine assumption of anger. 
+"Assist you take a man?  Sink me, sir, I would have you know I
+am a soldier, not a tipstaff!"
+
+The ensign's cheeks grew crimson under the sting of that veiled
+insult.
+
+"There are some, Sir Crispin, that have yet another name for
+you."
+
+"Like enough - when I am not by," sneered Crispin.  "The world
+is full of foul tongues in craven heads.  But, sirs, the night
+air is chill and you are come inopportunely, for, as you'll
+perceive, I was at play.  Haply you'll suffer me to close the
+door."
+
+"A moment, Sir Crispin.  We must search this house.  He is
+believed to have come this way."
+
+Crispin yawned.  "I will spare you the trouble.  You may take
+it from me that he could not be here without my knowledge.  I
+have been in this room these two hours past."
+
+"Twill not suffice," returned the officer doggedly.  "We must
+satisfy ourselves."
+
+"Satisfy yourselves?" echoed the other, in tones of deep
+amazement.  "What better satisfaction can I afford you than my
+word? 'Swounds, sir jackanapes," he added, in a roar that sent
+the lieutenant back a pace as though he had been struck, "am I
+to take it that your errand is a trumped-up business to affront
+me?  First you invite me to turn tipstaff, then you add your
+cursed innuendoes of what people say of me, and now you end by
+doubting me!  You must satisfy yourself!" he thundered, waxing
+fiercer at every word.  "Linger another moment on that
+threshold, and d -n me, sir, I'll give you satisfaction of
+another flavour!  Be off!"
+
+Before that hurricane of passion the ensign recoiled, despite
+himself.
+
+"I will appeal to General Montgomery," he threatened.
+
+"Appeal to the devil!  Had you come hither with your errand in
+a seemly fashion you had found my door thrown wide in welcome,
+and I had received you courteously.  As it is, sir, the cause
+for complaint is on my side, and complain I will.  We shall see
+whether the King permits an old soldier who has followed the
+fortunes of his family these eighteen years to be flouted by a
+malapert bantam of yesterday's brood!"
+
+The subaltern paused in dismay.  Some demur there was in the
+gathered crowd.  Then the officer fell back a pace, and
+consulted an elderly trooper at his elbow.  The trooper was of
+opinion that the fugitive must have gone farther.  Moreover, he
+could not think, from what Sir Crispin had said, that it would
+have been possible for Hogan to have entered the house.  With
+this, and realizing that much trouble and possible loss of time
+must result from Sir Crispin's obstinacy, did they attempt to
+force a way into the house, and bethinking himself, also,
+maybe, how well this rascally ruffler stood with Lord
+Middleton, the ensign determined to withdraw, and to seek
+elsewhere.
+
+And so he took his leave with a venomous glance, and a parting
+threat to bring the matter to the King's ears, upon which
+Galliard slammed the door before he had finished.
+
+There was a curious smile on Crispin's face as he walked slowly
+to the table, and resumed his seat.
+
+"Master Stewart," he whispered, as he spread his cards anew,
+"the comedy is not yet played out.  There is a face glued to
+the window at this moment, and I make little doubt that for the
+next hour or so we shall be spied upon.  That pretty fellow was
+born to be a thief-taker."
+
+The boy turned a glance of sour reproof upon his companion.  He
+had not stirred from his chair while Crispin had been at the
+door.
+
+"You lied to them," he said at last.
+
+"Sh!  Not so loud, sweet youth," was the answer that lost
+nothing of menace by being subdued.  "Tomorrow, if you please,
+I will account to you for offending your delicate soul by
+suggesting a falsehood in your presence.  To-night we have a
+man's life to save, and that, I think, is work enough.  Come,
+Master Stewart, we are being watched.  Let us resume our game."
+
+His eye, fixed in cold command upon the boy, compelled
+obedience.  And the lad, more out of awe of that glance than
+out of any desire to contribute to the saving of Hogan, mutely
+consented to keep up this pretence.  But in his soul he
+rebelled.  He had been reared in an atmosphere of honourable
+and religious bigotry.  Hogan was to him a coarse ruffler; an
+evil man of the sword; such a man as he abhorred and accounted
+a disgrace to any army - particularly to an army launched upon
+England under the auspices of the Solemn League and Covenant.
+
+Hogan had been guilty of an act of brutality; he had killed a
+man; and Kenneth deemed himself little better, since he
+assisted in harbouring instead of discovering him, as he held
+to be his duty.  But 'neath the suasion of Galliard's
+inexorable eye he sat limp and docile, vowing to himself that
+on the morrow he would lay the matter before Lord Middleton,
+and thus not only endeavour to make amends for his present
+guilty silence, but rid himself also of the companionship of
+this ruffianly Sir Crispin, to whom no doubt a hempen justice
+would be meted.
+
+Meanwhile, he sat on and left his companion's occasional
+sallies unanswered.  In the street men stirred and lanthorns
+gleamed fitfully, whilst ever and anon a face surmounted by a
+morion would be pressed against the leaded panes of the window.
+
+Thus an hour wore itself out during which poor Hogan sat above,
+alone with his anxiety and unsavoury thoughts.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+ARCADES AMBO
+
+
+Towards midnight at last Sir Crispin flung down his cards and
+rose.  It was close upon an hour and a half since Hogan's
+advent.  In the streets the sounds had gradually died down, and
+peace seemed to reign again in Penrith.  Yet was Sir Crispin
+cautious - for to be cautious and mistrustful of appearances
+was the lesson life had taught him.
+
+"Master Stewart," said he, "it grows late, and I doubt me you
+would be abed.  Give you good night!"
+
+The lad rose.  A moment he paused, hesitating, then -
+
+"To-morrow, Sir Crispin - " he began.  But Crispin cut him
+short.
+
+"Leave to-morrow till it dawn, my friend.  Give you good night. 
+Take one of those noisome tapers with you, and go."
+
+In sullen silence the boy took up one of the candle-bearing
+bottles and passed out through the door leading to the stairs.
+
+For a moment Crispin remained standing by the table, and in
+that moment the expression of his face was softened.  A
+momentary regret of his treatment of the boy stirred in him. 
+Master Stewart might be a milksop, but Crispin accounted him
+leastways honest, and had a kindness for him in spite of all. 
+He crossed to the window, and throwing it wide he leaned out,
+as if to breathe the cool night air, what time he hummed the
+refrain of `Rub-a-dub-dub' for the edification of any chance
+listeners.
+
+For a half-hour he lingered there, and for all that he used the
+occasion to let his mind stray over many a theme, his eyes were
+alert for the least movement among the shadows of the street. 
+Reassured at last that the house was no longer being watched,
+he drew back, and closed the lattice.
+
+Upstairs he found the Irishman seated in dejection upon his
+bed, awaiting him.
+
+"Soul of my body!" cried Hogan ruefully, "I was never nearer
+being afraid in my life."
+
+Crispin laughed softly for answer, and besought of him the tale
+of what had passed.
+
+"Tis simple enough, faith," said Hogan coolly.  "The landlord
+of The Angel hath a daughter maybe 'twas after her he named his
+inn - who owns a pair of the most seductive eyes that ever a
+man saw perdition in.  She hath, moreover, a taste for
+dalliance, and my brave looks and martial trappings did for her
+what her bold eyes had done for me.  We were becoming the
+sweetest friends, when, like an incarnate fiend, that loutish
+clown, her lover, sweeps down upon us, and, with more jealousy
+than wit, struck me - struck me, Harry Hogan!  Soul of my body,
+think of it, Cris!"  And he grew red with anger at the
+recollection.  "I took him by the collar of his mean smock and
+flung him into the kennel - the fittest bed he ever lay in. 
+Had he remained there it had been well for him; but the fool,
+accounting himself affronted, came up to demand satisfaction. 
+I gave it him, and plague on it - he's dead!"
+
+"An ugly tale," was Crispin's sour comment.
+
+"Ugly, maybe," returned Hogan, spreading out his palms, "but
+what choice had I?  The fool came at me, bilbo in hand, and I
+was forced to draw.'
+
+"But not to slay, Hogan!"
+
+"Twas an accident.  Sink me, it was!  I sought his sword-arm;
+but the light was bad, and my point went through his chest
+instead."
+
+For a moment Crispin stood frowning, then his brow cleared, as
+though he had put the matter from him.
+
+"Well, well - since he's dead, there's an end to it."
+
+"Heaven rest his soul!" muttered the Irishman, crossing himself
+piously.  And with that he dismissed the subject of the great
+wrong that through folly he had wrought - the wanton
+destruction of a man's life, and the poisoning of a woman's
+with a remorse that might be everlasting.
+
+"It will tax our wits to get you out of Penrith," said Crispin. 
+Then, turning and looking into the Irishman's great,
+good-humoured face - "I am sorry you leave us, Hogan," he
+added.
+
+"Not so am I," quoth Hogan with a shrug.  "Such a march as this
+is little to my taste.  Bah! Charles Stuart or Oliver Cromwell,
+'tis all one to me.  What care I whether King or Commonwealth
+prevail?  Shall Harry Hogan be the better or the richer under
+one than under the other?  Oddslife, Cris, I have trailed a
+pike or handled a sword in well-nigh every army in Europe.  I
+know more of the great art of war than all the King's generals
+rolled into one.  Think you, then, I can rest content with a
+miserable company of horse when plunder is forbidden, and even
+our beggarly pay doubtful?  Whilst, should things go ill - as
+well they may, faith, with an army ruled by parsons - the wage
+will be a swift death on field or gallows, or a lingering one
+in the plantations, as fell to the lot of those poor wretches
+Noll drove into England after Dunbar.  Soul of my body, it is
+not thus that I had looked to fare when I took service at
+Perth.  I had looked for plunder, rich and plentiful plunder,
+according to the usages of warfare, as a fitting reward for a
+toilsome march and the perils gone through.
+
+"Thus I know war, and for this have I followed the trade these
+twenty years.  Instead, we have thirty thousand men, marching
+to battle as prim and orderly as a parcel of acolytes in a
+Corpus-Christi procession.  'Twas not so bad in Scotland haply
+because the country holds naught a man may profitably plunder -
+but since we have crossed the Border, 'slife, they'll hang you
+if you steal so much as a kiss from a wench in passing."
+
+"Why, true," laughed Crispin, "the Second Charles hath an
+over-tender stomach.  He will not allow that we are marching
+through an enemy's country; he insists that England is his
+kingdom, forgetting that he has yet to conquer it, and - "
+
+"Was it not also his father's kingdom?" broke in the impetuous
+Hogan.  "Yet times are sorely changed since we followed the
+fortunes of the Martyr.  In those days you might help yourself
+to a capon, a horse, a wench, or any other trifle of the
+enemy's, without ever a word of censure or a question asked. 
+Why, man, it is but two days since His Majesty had a poor devil
+hanged at Kendal for laying violent hands upon a pullet.  Pox
+on it, Cris, my gorge rises at the thought!  When I saw that
+wretch strung up, I swore to fall behind at the earliest
+opportunity, and to-night's affair makes this imperative."
+
+"And what may your plans be?" asked Crispin.
+
+"War is my trade, not a diversion, as it is with Wilmot and
+Buckingham and the other pretty gentlemen of our train.  And
+since the King's army is like to yield me no profit, faith,
+I'll turn me to the Parliament's.  If I get out of Penrith with
+my life, I'll shave my beard and cut my hair to a comely and
+godly length; don a cuckoldy steeple hat and a black coat, and
+carry my sword to Cromwell with a line of text."
+
+Sir Crispin fell to pondering.  Noting this, and imagining that
+he guessed aright the reason:
+
+"I take it, Cris," he put in, keenly glancing at the other,
+"that you are much of my mind?"
+
+"Maybe I am," replied Crispin carelessly.
+
+"Why, then," cried Hogan, "need we part company?"
+
+There was a sudden eagerness in his tone, born of the
+admiration in which this rough soldier of fortune held one whom
+he accounted his better in that same harsh trade.  But Galliard
+answered coldly:
+
+"You forget, Harry."
+
+"Not so!  Surely on Cromwell's side your object - "
+
+"T'sh!  I have well considered.  My fortunes are bound up with
+the King's.  In his victory alone lies profit for me; not the
+profit of pillage, Hogan, but the profit of those broad lands
+that for nigh upon twenty years have been in usurping hands. 
+The profit I look for, Hogan, is my restoration to Castle
+Marleigh, and of this my only hope lies in the restoration of
+King Charles.  If the King doth not prevail - which God
+forfend! - why, then, I can but die.  I shall have naught left
+to hope for from life.  So you see, good Hogan," he ended with
+a regretful smile, "my going with you is not to be dreamed of."
+
+Still the Irishman urged him, and a good half-hour did he
+devote to it, but in vain.  Realizing at last the futility of
+his endeavours, he sighed and moved uneasily in his chair,
+whilst the broad, tanned face was clouded with regret.  Crispin
+saw this, and approaching him, he laid a hand upon his
+shoulder.
+
+"I had counted upon your help to clear the Ashburns from Castle
+Marleigh and to aid me in my grim work when the time is ripe. 
+But if you go - "
+
+"Faith, I may aid you yet.  Who shall say?"  Then of a sudden
+there crept into the voice of this hardened pike-trader a note
+of soft concern.  "Think you there be danger to yourself in
+remaining?" he inquired.
+
+"Danger?  To me?" echoed Crispin.
+
+"Aye - for having harboured me.  That whelp of Montgomery's
+Foot suspects you."
+
+"Suspects?  Am I a man of straw to be overset by a breath of
+suspicion?"
+
+"There is your lieutenant, Kenneth Stewart."
+
+"Who has been a party to your escape, and whose only course is
+therefore silence, lest he set a noose about his own neck. 
+Come, Harry," he added, briskly, changing his manner, "the
+night wears on, and we have your safety to think of."
+
+Hogan rose with a sigh.
+
+"Give me a horse," said he, "and by God's grace tomorrow shall
+find me in Cromwell's camp.  Heaven prosper and reward you,
+Cris."
+
+"We must find you clothes more fitting than these - a coat more
+staid and better attuned to the Puritan part you are to play."
+
+"Where have you such a coat?"
+
+"My lieutenant has.  He affects the godly black, from a habit
+taken in that Presbyterian Scotland of his."
+
+"But I am twice his bulk!"
+
+"Better a tight coat to your back than a tight rope to your
+neck, Harry.  Wait."
+
+Taking a taper, he left the room, to return a moment later with
+the coat that Kenneth had worn that day, and which he had
+abstracted from the sleeping lad's chamber.
+
+"Off with your doublet," he commanded, and as he spoke he set
+himself to empty the pocket of Kenneth's garment; a
+handkerchief and a few papers he found in them, and these he
+tossed carelessly on the bed.  Next he assisted the Irishman to
+struggle into the stolen coat.
+
+"May the Lord forgive my sins," groaned Hogan, as he felt the
+cloth straining upon his back and cramping his limbs.  "May He
+forgive me, and see me safely out of Penrith and into
+Cromwell's camp, and never again will I resent the resentment
+of a clown whose sweetheart I have made too free with."
+
+"Pluck that feather from your hat," said Crispin.
+
+Hogan obeyed him with a sigh.
+
+"Truly it is written in Scripture that man in his time plays
+many parts.  Who would have thought to see Harry Hogan playing
+the Puritan?"
+
+"Unless you improve your acquaintance with Scripture you are
+not like to play it long," laughed Crispin, as he surveyed him. 
+"There, man, you'll do well enough.  Your coat is somewhat
+tight in the back, somewhat short in the skirt; but neither so
+tight nor so short but that it may be preferred to a
+winding-sheet, and that is the alternative, Harry."
+
+Hogan replied by roundly cursing the coat and his own
+lucklessness.  That done - and in no measured terms - he
+pronounced himself ready to set out, whereupon Crispin led the
+way below once more, and out into a hut that did service as a
+stable.
+
+By the light of a lanthorn he saddled one of the two nags that
+stood there, and led it into the yard.  Opening the door that
+abutted on to a field beyond, he bade Hogan mount.  He held his
+stirrup for him, and cutting short the Irishman's voluble
+expressions of gratitude, he gave him "God speed," and urged
+him to use all dispatch in setting as great a distance as
+possible betwixt himself and Penrith before the dawn.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+THE LETTER
+
+
+It was with a countenance sadly dejected that Crispin returned
+to his chamber and sate himself wearily upon the bed.  With
+elbows on his knees and chin in his palms he stared straight
+before him, the usual steely brightness of his grey eyes dulled
+by the despondency that sat upon his face and drew deep furrows
+down his fine brow.
+
+With a sigh he rose at last and idly fingered the papers he had
+taken from the pocket of Kenneth's coat.  As he did so his
+glance was arrested by the signature at the foot of one. 
+"Gregory Ashburn" was the name he read.
+
+Ashen grew his cheeks as his eyes fastened upon that name,
+whilst the hand, to which no peril ever brought a tremor, shook
+now like an aspen.  Feverishly he spread the letter on his
+knee, and with a glance, from dull that it had been, grown of a
+sudden fierce and cruel, he read the contents.
+
+
+
+DEAR KENNETH,
+
+Again I write in the hope that I may prevail upon you to quit
+Scotland and your attachment to a king, whose fortunes prosper
+not, nor can prosper.  Cynthia is pining, and if you tarry
+longer from Castle Marleigh she must perforce think you but a
+laggard lover.  Than this I have no more powerful argument
+wherewith to draw you from Perth to Sheringham, but this I
+think should prevail where others have failed me.  We await you
+then, and whilst we wait we daily drink your health.  Cynthia
+commends herself to your memory as doth my brother, and soon we
+hope to welcome you at Castle Marleigh.  Believe, my dear
+Kenneth, that whilst I am, I am yours in affection.
+
+                                             GREGORY ASHBURN
+
+Twice Crispin read the letter through.  Then with set teeth and
+straining eyes he sat lost in thought.
+
+Here indeed was a strange chance!  This boy whom he had met at
+Perth, and enrolled in his company, was a friend of Ashburn's -
+the lover of Cynthia.  Who might this Cynthia be?
+
+Long and deep were his ponderings upon the unfathomable ways of
+Fate - for Fate he now believed was here at work to help him,
+revealing herself by means of this sign even at the very moment
+when he decried his luck.  In memory he reviewed his meeting
+with the lad in the yard of Perth Castle a fortnight ago. 
+Something in the boy's bearing, in his air, had caught
+Crispin's eye.  He had looked him over, then approached, and
+bluntly asked his name and on what business he was come there. 
+The youth had answered him civilly enough that he was Kenneth
+Stewart of Bailienochy, and that he was come to offer his sword
+to the King.  Thereupon he had interested himself in the lad's
+behalf and had gained him a lieutenancy in his own company. 
+Why he was attracted to a youth on whom never before had he set
+eyes was a matter that puzzled him not a little.  Now he held,
+he thought, the explanation of it.  It was the way of Fate.
+
+This boy was sent into his life by a Heaven that at last showed
+compassion for the deep wrongs he had suffered; sent him as a
+key wherewith, should the need occur, to open him the gates of
+Castle Marleigh.
+
+In long strides he paced the chamber, turning the matter over
+in his mind.  Aye, he would use the lad should the need arise. 
+Why scruple?  Had he ever received aught but disdain and scorn
+at the hands of Kenneth.
+
+Day was breaking ere he sought his bed, and already the sun was
+up when at length he fell into a troubled sleep, vowing that he
+would mend his wild ways and seek to gain the boy's favour
+against the time when he might have need of him.
+
+When later he restored the papers to Kenneth, explaining to
+what use he had put the coat, he refrained from questioning him
+concerning Gregory Ashburn.  The docility of his mood on that
+occasion came as a surprise to Kenneth, who set it down to Sir
+Crispin's desire to conciliate him into silence touching the
+harbouring of Hogan.  In that same connexion Crispin showed him
+calmly and clearly that he could not now inform without
+involving himself to an equally dangerous extent.  And partly
+through the fear of this, partly won over by Crispin's
+persuasions, the lad determined to hold his peace.
+
+Nor had he cause to regret it thereafter, for throughout that
+tedious march he found his roystering companion singularly meek
+and kindly.  Indeed he seemed a different man.  His old swagger
+and roaring bluster disappeared; he drank less, diced less,
+blasphemed less, and stormed less than in the old days before
+the halt at Penrith; but rode, a silent, thoughtful figure, so
+self-contained and of so godly a mien as would have rejoiced
+the heart of the sourest Puritan.  The wild tantivy boy had
+vanished, and the sobriquet of "Tavern Knight" was fast
+becoming a misnomer.
+
+Kenneth felt drawn more towards him, deeming him a penitent
+that had seen at last the error of his ways.  And thus things
+prevailed until the almost triumphal entry into the city of
+Worcester on the twenty-third of August.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+AT THE SIGN OF THE MITRE
+
+
+For a week after the coming of the King to Worcester, Crispin's
+relations with Kenneth steadily improved.  By an evil chance,
+however, there befell on the eve of the battle that which
+renewed with heightened intensity the enmity which the lad had
+fostered for him, but which lately he had almost overcome.
+
+The scene of this happening - leastways of that which led to it
+- was The Mitre Inn, in the High Street of Worcester.
+
+In the common-room one day sat as merry a company of carousers
+as ever gladdened the soul of an old tantivy boy.  Youthful
+ensigns of Lesley's Scottish horse - caring never a fig for the
+Solemn League and Covenant - rubbed shoulders with beribboned
+Cavaliers of Lord Talbot's company; gay young lairds of
+Pitscottie's Highlanders, unmindful of the Kirk's harsh
+commandments of sobriety, sat cheek by jowl with rakehelly
+officers of Dalzell's Brigade, and pledged the King in many a
+stoup of canary and many a can of stout March ale.
+
+On every hand spirits ran high and laughter filled the chamber,
+the mirth of some having its source in a neighbour's quip, that
+of others having no source at all save in the wine they had
+taken.
+
+At one table sat a gentleman of the name of Faversham, who had
+ridden on the previous night in that ill-fated camisado that
+should have resulted in the capture of Cromwell at Spetchley,
+but which, owing to a betrayal - when was a Stuart not betrayed
+and sold? - miscarried.  He was relating to the group about him
+the details of that disaster.
+
+"Oddslife, gentlemen," he was exclaiming, "I tell you that, but
+for that roaring dog, Sir Crispin Galliard, the whole of
+Middleton's regiment had been cut to pieces.  There we stood on
+Red Hill, trapped as ever fish in a net, with the whole of
+Lilburne's men rising out of the ground to enclose and destroy
+us.  A living wall of steel it was, and on every hand the call
+to surrender.  There was dismay in my heart, as I'll swear
+there was dismay in the heart of every man of us, and I make
+little doubt, gentlemen, that with but scant pressing we had
+thrown down our arms, so disheartened were we by that ambush. 
+Then of a sudden there arose above the clatter of steel and
+Puritan cries, a loud, clear, defiant shout of "Hey for
+Cavaliers!"
+
+"I turned, and there in his stirrups stood that madman
+Galliard, waving his sword and holding his company together
+with the power of his will, his courage, and his voice.  The
+sight of him was like wine to our blood.  "Into them,
+gentlemen; follow me!" he roared.  And then, with a hurricane
+of oaths, he hurled his company against the pike-men.  The blow
+was irresistible, and above the din of it came that voice of
+his again: "Up, Cavaliers!  Slash the cuckolds to ribbons,
+gentlemen!"  The cropears gave way, and like a river that has
+burst its dam, we poured through the opening in their ranks and
+headed back for Worcester."
+
+There was a roar of voices as Faversham ended, and around that
+table "The Tavern Knight" was for some minutes the only toast.
+
+Meanwhile half a dozen merry-makers at a table hard by, having
+drunk themselves out of all sense of fitness, were occupied in
+baiting a pale-faced lad, sombrely attired, who seemed sadly
+out of place in that wild company - indeed, he had been better
+advised to have avoided it.
+
+The matter had been set afoot by a pleasantry of Ensign
+Tyler's, of Massey's dragoons, with a playful allusion to a
+letter in a feminine hand which Kenneth had let fall, and which
+Tyler had restored to him.  Quip had followed quip until in
+their jests they transcended all bounds.  Livid with passion
+and unable to endure more, Kenneth had sprung up.
+
+"Damnation!" he blazed, bringing his clenched hand down upon
+the table.  "One more of your foul jests and he that utters it
+shall answer to me!"
+
+The suddenness of his action and the fierceness of his tone and
+gesture - a fierceness so grotesquely ill-attuned to his
+slender frame and clerkly attire left the company for a moment
+speechless with amazement.  Then a mighty burst of laughter
+greeted him, above which sounded the shrill voice of Tyler, who
+held his sides, and down whose crimson cheeks two tears of
+mirth were trickling.
+
+"Oh, fie, fie, good Master Stewart!" he gasped.  "What think
+you would the reverend elders say to this bellicose attitude
+and this profane tongue of yours?"
+
+"And what think you would the King say to this drunken
+poltroonery of yours?" was the hot unguarded answer. 
+"Poltroonery, I say," he repeated, embracing the whole company
+in his glance.
+
+The laughter died down as Kenneth's insult penetrated their
+befuddled minds.  An instant's lull there was, like the lull in
+nature that precedes a clap of thunder.  Then, as with one
+accord, a dozen of them bore down upon him.
+
+It was a vile thing they did, perhaps; but then they had drunk
+deep, and Kenneth Stewart counted no friend amongst them.  In
+an instant they had him, kicking and biting, on the floor; his
+doublet was torn rudely open, and from his breast Tyler plucked
+the letter whose existence had led to this shameless scene.
+
+But ere he could so much as unfold it, a voice rang harsh and
+imperative:
+
+"Hold!"
+
+Pausing, they turned to confront a tall, gaunt man in a leather
+jerkin and a broad hat decked by goose-quill, who came slowly
+forward.
+
+"The Tavern Knight," cried one, and the shout of "A rouse for
+the hero of Red Hill!" was taken up on every hand.  For despite
+his sour visage and ungracious ways there was not a roysterer
+in the Royal army to whom he was not dear.
+
+But as he now advanced, the coldness of his bearing and the
+forbidding set of his face froze them into silence.
+
+"Give me that letter," he demanded sternly of Tyler.
+
+Taken aback, Tyler hesitated for a second, whilst Crispin
+waited with hand outstretched.  Vainly did he look round for
+sign or word of help or counsel.  None was afforded him by his
+fellow-revellers, who one and all hung back in silence.
+
+Seeing himself thus unsupported, and far from wishing to try
+conclusions with Galliard, Tyler with an ill grace surrendered
+the paper; and, with a pleasant bow and a word of thanks,
+delivered with never so slight a saturnine smile, Crispin
+turned on his heel and left the tavern as abruptly as he had
+entered it.
+
+The din it was that had attracted him as he passed by on his
+way to the Episcopal Palace where a part of his company was on
+guard duty.  Thither he now pursued his way, bearing with him
+the letter which so opportunely he had become possessed of, and
+which he hoped might throw further light upon Kenneth's
+relations with the Ashburns.
+
+But as he reached the palace there was a quick step behind him. 
+and a hand fell upon his arm.  He turned.
+
+"Ah, 'tis you, Kenneth," he muttered, and would have passed on,
+but the boy's hand took him by the sleeve.
+
+"Sir Crispin," said he, "I came to thank you."
+
+"I have done nothing to deserve your thanks.  Give you good
+evening."  And he made shift to mount the steps when again
+Kenneth detained him.
+
+"You are forgetting the letter, Sir Crispin," he ventured, and
+he held out his hand to receive it.
+
+Galliard saw the gesture, and for a moment it crossed his mind
+in self-reproach that the part he chose to play was that of a
+bully.  A second he hesitated.  Should he surrender the letter
+unread, and fight on without the aid of the information it
+might bring him?  Then the thought of Ashburn and of his own
+deep wrongs that cried out for vengeance, overcame and stifled
+the generous impulse.  His manner grew yet more frozen as he
+made answer:
+
+"There has been too much ado about this letter to warrant my so
+lightly parting with it.  First I will satisfy myself that I
+have been no unconscious abettor of treason.  You shall have
+your letter tomorrow, Master Stewart."
+
+"Treason!" echoed Kenneth.  And before that cold rebuff of
+Crispin's his mood changed from conciliatory to resentful -
+resentful towards the fates that made him this man's debtor.
+
+"I assure you, on my honour," said he, mastering his feelings,
+"that this is but a letter from the lady I hope to make my
+wife.  Assuredly, sir, you will not now insist upon reading
+it."
+
+"Assuredly I shall."
+
+"But, sir - "
+
+"Master Stewart, I am resolved, and were you to talk from now
+till doomsday, you would not turn me from my purpose.  So good
+night to you."
+
+"Sir Crispin," cried the boy, his voice quavering with passion,
+"while I live you shall not read that letter!"
+
+"Hoity-toity, sir!  What words!  What heroics!  And yet you
+would have me believe this paper innocent?"
+
+"As innocent as the hand that penned it, and if I so oppose
+your reading it, it is because thus much I owe her.  Believe
+me, sir," he added, his accents returning to a beseeching key,
+"when again I swear that it is no more than such a letter any
+maid may write her lover.  I thought that you had understood
+all this when you rescued me from those bullies at The Mitre. 
+I thought that what you did was a noble and generous deed. 
+Instead - "  The lad paused.
+
+"Continue, sir," Galliard requested coldly.  "Instead?"
+
+"There can be no instead, Sir Crispin.  You will not mar so
+good an action now.  You will give me my letter, will you not?"
+
+Callous though he was, Crispin winced.  The breeding of earlier
+days - so sadly warped, alas! - cried out within him against
+the lie that he was acting by pretending to suspect treason in
+that woman's pothooks.  Instincts of gentility and generosity
+long dead took life again, resuscitated by that call of
+conscience.  He was conquered.
+
+"There, take your letter, boy, and plague me no more," he
+growled, as he held it out to Kenneth.  And without waiting for
+reply or acknowledgment, he turned on his heel, and entered the
+palace.  But he had yielded overlate to leave a good impression
+and, as Kenneth turned away, it was with a curse upon Galliard,
+for whom his detestation seemed to increase at every step.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V
+
+AFTER WORCESTER FIELD
+
+
+The morn of the third of September - that date so propitious to
+Cromwell, so disastrous to Charles - found Crispin the centre
+of a company of gentlemen in battle-harness, assembled at The
+Mitre Inn.  For a toast he gave them "The damnation of all
+crop-ears."
+
+"Sirs," quoth he, "a fair beginning to a fair day.  God send
+the evening find us as merry."
+
+It was not to be his good fortune, however, to be in the
+earlier work of the day.  Until afternoon he was kept within
+the walls of Worcester, chafing to be where hard knocks were
+being dealt - with Montgomery at Powick Bridge, or with
+Pittscottie on Bunn's Hill.  But he was forced to hold his mood
+in curb, and wait until Charles and his advisers should elect
+to make the general attack.
+
+It came at last, and with it came the disastrous news that
+Montgomery was routed, and Pittscottie in full retreat, whilst
+Dalzell had surrendered, and Keith was taken.  Then was it that
+the main body of the Royal army formed up at the Sidbury Gate,
+and Crispin found himself in the centre, which was commanded by
+the King in person.  In the brilliant charge that followed
+there was no more conspicuous figure, no voice rang louder in
+encouragement to the men.  For the first time that day
+Cromwell's Ironsides gave back before the Royalists, who in
+that fierce, irresistible charge, swept all before them until
+they had reached the battery on Perry Wood, and driven the
+Roundheads from it hell-to-leather.
+
+It was a glorious moment, a moment in which the fortunes of the
+day hung in the balance; the turn of the tide it seemed to them
+at last.
+
+Crispin was among the first to reach the guns, and with a great
+shout of "Hurrah for Cavaliers!" he had cut down two gunners
+that yet lingered.  His cry lacked not an echo, and a deafening
+cheer broke upon the clamorous air as the Royalists found
+themselves masters of the position.  Up the hill on either side
+pressed the Duke of Hamilton and the Earl of Derby to support
+the King.  It but remained for Lesley's Scottish horse to
+follow and complete the rout of the Parliamentarian forces. 
+Had they moved at that supreme moment who shall say what had
+been the issue of Worcester field?  But they never stirred, and
+the Royalists waiting on Perry Wood cursed Lesley for a foul
+traitor who had sold his King.
+
+With bitterness did they then realize that their great effort
+was to be barren, their gallant charge in vain.  Unsupported,
+their position grew fast untenable.
+
+And presently, when Cromwell had gathered his scattered
+Ironsides, that gallant host was driven fighting, down the hill
+and back to the shelter of Worcester.  With the Roundheads
+pressing hotly upon them they gained at last the Sidbury Gate,
+but only to find that an overset ammunition wagon blocked the
+entrance.  In this plight, and without attempting to move it,
+they faced about to make a last stand against the Puritan
+onslaught.
+
+Charles had flung himself from his charger and climbed the
+obstruction, and in this he was presently followed by others,
+amongst whom was Crispin.
+
+In the High Street Galliard came upon the King, mounted on a
+fresh horse, addressing a Scottish regiment of foot.  The
+soldiers had thrown down their arms and stood sullenly before
+him, refusing to obey his command to take them up again and
+help him attempt, even at that late hour, to retrieve the
+fortunes of the day.  Crispin looked on in scorn and loathing. 
+His passions awakened at the sight of Lesley's inaction needed
+but this last breath to fan it into a very blaze of wrath.  And
+what he said to them touching themselves, their country, and
+the Kirk Committee that had made sheep of them, was so bitter
+and contemptuous that none but men in the most parlous and
+pitiable of conditions could have suffered it.
+
+He was still hurling vituperations at them when Colonel Pride
+with a troop of Parliamentarian horse - having completely
+overcome the resistance at the Sidbury Gate - rode into the
+town.  At the news of this, Crispin made a last appeal to the
+infantry.
+
+"Afoot, you Scottish curs!" he thundered.  "Would you rather be
+cut to pieces as you stand? Up, you dogs, and since you know
+not how to live, die at least without shame!"
+
+But in vain did he rail.  In sullen quiet they remained, their
+weapons on the ground before them.  And then, as Crispin was
+turning away to see to his own safety, the King rode up again,
+and again he sought to revive the courage that was dead in
+those Scottish hearts.  If they would not stand by him, he
+cried at last, let them slay him there, sooner than that he
+should be taken captive to perish on the scaffold.
+
+While he was still urging them, Crispin unceremoniously seized
+his bridle.
+
+"Will you stand here until you are taken, sire?" he cried. 
+"Leave them, and look to your safety."
+
+Charles turned a wondering eye upon the resolute, battle-grimed
+face of the man that thus addressed him.  A faint, sad smile
+parted his lips.
+
+"You are right, sir," he made answer.  "Attend me."  And
+turning about he rode down a side street with Galliard
+following closely in his wake.
+
+With the intention of doffing his armour and changing his
+apparel, he made for the house in New Street where he had been
+residing.  As they drew up before the door, Crispin, chancing
+to look over his shoulder, rapped out an oath.
+
+"Hasten, sire," he exclaimed, "here is a portion of Colonel's
+Pride's troop."
+
+The King looked round, and at sight of the Parliamentarians,
+"It is ended," he muttered despairingly.  But already Crispin
+had sprung from his horse.
+
+"Dismount, sire," he roared, and he assisted him so vigorously
+as to appear to drag him out of the saddle.
+
+"Which way?" demanded Charles, looking helplessly from left to
+right.  "Which way?"
+
+But Crispin's quick mind had already shaped a plan.  Seizing
+the royal arm - for who in such straits would deal
+ceremoniously? - he thrust the King across the threshold, and,
+following, closed the door and shot its only bolt.  But the
+shout set up by the Puritans announced to them that their
+movement had been detected.
+
+The King turned upon Sir Crispin, and in the half-light of the
+passage wherein they stood Galliard made out the frown that
+bent the royal brows.
+
+"And now?" demanded Charles, a note almost of reproach in his
+voice.
+
+"And now begone, sire," returned the knight.  "Begone ere they
+come."
+
+"Begone?" echoed Charles, in amazement.  "But whither, sir? 
+Whither and how?"
+
+His last words were almost drowned in the din without, as the
+Roundheads pulled up before the house.
+
+"By the back, sire," was the impatient answer.  "Through door
+or window - as best you can.  The back must overlook the
+Corn-Market; that is your way.  But hasten - in God's name
+hasten! - ere they bethink them of it and cut off your
+retreat."
+
+As he spoke a violent blow shook the door.
+
+"Quick, Your Majesty," he implored, in a frenzy.
+
+Charles moved to depart, then paused.  "But you, sir?  Do you
+not come with me?"
+
+Crispin stamped his foot, and turned a face livid with
+impatience upon his King.  In that moment all distinction of
+rank lay forgotten.
+
+"I must remain," he answered, speaking quickly.  "That crazy
+door will not hold for a second once a stout man sets his
+shoulder to it.  After the door they will find me, and for your
+sake I trust I may prove of stouter stuff.  Fare you well,
+sire," he ended in a softer tone.  "God guard Your Majesty and
+send you happier days."
+
+And, bending his knee, Crispin brushed the royal hand with his
+hot lips.
+
+A shower of blows clattered upon the timbers of the door, and
+one of its panels was splintered by a musket-shot.  Charles saw
+it, and with a muttered word that was not caught by Crispin, he
+obeyed the knight, and fled.
+
+Scarce had he disappeared down that narrow passage, when the
+door gave way completely and with a mighty crash fell in.  Over
+the ruins of it sprang a young Puritan-scarce more than a boy -
+shouting: "The Lord of Hosts!"
+
+But ere he had taken three strides the point of Crispin's
+tuck-sword gave him pause.
+
+"Halt!  You cannot pass this way."
+
+"Back, son of Moab!" was the Roundhead's retort.  "Hinder me
+not, at your peril."
+
+Behind him, in the doorway, pressed others, who cried out to
+him to cut down the Amalekite that stood between them and the
+young man Charles Stuart.  But Crispin laughed grimly for
+answer, and kept the officer in check with his point.
+
+"Back, or I cut you down," threatened the Roundhead.  "I am
+seeking the malignant Stuart."
+
+"If by those blasphemous words you mean his sacred Majesty,
+learn that he is where you will never be - in God's keeping."
+
+"Presumptuous hound," stormed the lad, "giveway!"
+
+Their swords met, and for a moment they ground one against the
+other; then Crispin's blade darted out, swift as a lightning
+flash, and took his opponent in the throat.
+
+"You would have it so, rash fool," he deprecated.
+
+The boy hurtled back into the arms of those behind, and as he
+fell he dropped his rapier, which rolled almost to Crispin's
+feet.  The knight stooped, and when again he stood erect,
+confronting the rebels in that narrow passage, he held a sword
+in either hand.
+
+There was a momentary pause in the onslaught, then to his
+dismay Crispin saw the barrel of a musket pointed at him over
+the shoulder of one of his foremost assailants.  He set his
+teeth for what was to come, and braced himself with the hope
+that the King might already have made good his escape.
+
+The end was at hand, he thought, and a fitting end, since his
+last hope of redress was gone-destroyed by that fatal day's
+defeat.
+
+But of a sudden a cry rang out in a voice wherein rage and
+anguish were blended fearfully, and simultaneously the musket
+barrel was dashed aside.
+
+"Take him alive!" was the cry of that voice.  "Take him alive!"
+It was Colonel Pride himself, who having pushed his way
+forward, now beheld the bleeding body of the youth Crispin had
+slain.  "Take him alive!" roared the old man.  Then his voice
+changing to one of exquisite agony - "My son, my boy," he
+moaned.
+
+At a glance Crispin caught the situation; but the old Puritan's
+grief left him unmoved.
+
+"You must have me alive?" he laughed grimly.  "Gadslife, but
+the honour is like to cost you dear.  Well, sirs?  Who will be
+next to court the distinction of dying by the sword of a
+gentleman?" he mocked them.  "Come on, you sons of dogs!"
+
+His answer was an angry growl, and straightway two men sprang
+forward.  More than two could not attack him at once by virtue
+of the narrowness of the passage.  Again steel clashed on
+steel.  Crispin - lithe as a panther crouched low, and took one
+of their swords on each of his.
+
+A disengage and a double he foiled with ease, then by a turn of
+the wrist he held for a second one opponent's blade; and before
+the fellow could disengage again, he had brought his right-hand
+sword across, and stabbed him in the neck.  Simultaneously his
+other opponent had rushed in and thrust.  It was a risk Crispin
+was forced to take, trusting to his armour to protect him.  It
+did him the service he hoped from it; the trooper's sword
+glanced harmlessly aside, whilst the fellow himself,
+overbalanced by the fury of his onslaught, staggered helplessly
+forward.  Ere he could recover, Crispin had spitted him from
+side to side betwixt the straps that held his back and breast
+together.
+
+As the two men went down, one after the other, the watching
+troopers set up a shout of rage, and pressed forward in a body. 
+But the Tavern Knight stood his ground, and his points danced
+dangerously before the eyes of the two foremost.  Alarmed, they
+shouted to those behind to give them room to handle their
+swords; but too late.  Crispin had seen the advantage, and
+taken it.  Twice he had thrust, and another two sank bleeding
+to the ground.
+
+At that there came a pause, and somewhere in the street a knot
+of them expostulated with Colonel Pride, and begged to be
+allowed to pick off that murderous malignant with their
+pistols.  But the grief-stricken father was obdurate.  He would
+have the Amalekite alive that he might cause him to die a
+hundred deaths in one.
+
+And so two more were sent in to try conclusions with the
+indomitable Galliard.  They went to work more warily.  He on
+the left parried Crispin's stroke, then knocking up the
+knight's blade, he rushed in and seized his wrist, shouting to
+those behind to follow up.  But even as he did so, Crispin sent
+back his other antagonist, howling and writhing with the pain
+of a transfixed sword-arm, and turned his full attention upon
+the foe that clung to him.  Not a second did he waste in
+thought.  To have done so would have been fatal.  Instinctively
+he knew that whilst he shortened his blade, others would rush
+in; so, turning his wrist, he caught the man a crushing blow
+full in the face with the pommel of his disengaged sword.
+
+Fulminated by that terrific stroke, the man reeled back into
+the arms of another who advanced.
+
+Again there fell a pause.  Then silently a Roundhead charged
+Sir Crispin with a pike.  He leapt nimbly aside, and the
+murderous lunge shot past him; as he did so he dropped his
+left-hand sword and caught at the halberd.  Exerting his whole
+strength in a mighty pull, he brought the fellow that wielded
+it toppling forward, and received him on his outstretched
+blade.
+
+Covered with blood - the blood of others --Crispin stood before
+them now.  He was breathing hard and sweating at every pore,
+but still grim and defiant.  His strength, he realized, was
+ebbing fast.  Yet he shook himself, and asked them with a
+gibing laugh did they not think that they had better shoot him.
+
+The Roundheads paused again.  The fight had lasted but a few
+moments, and already five of them were stretched upon the
+ground, and a sixth disabled.  There was something in the
+Tavern Knight's attitude and terrific, blood-bespattered
+appearance that deterred them.  From out of his
+powder-blackened face his eyes flashed fiercely, and a mocking
+diabolical smile played round the corners of his mouth.  What
+manner of man, they asked themselves, was this who could laugh
+in such an extremity?  Superstition quickened their alarm as
+they gazed upon his undaunted front, and told themselves this
+was no man they fought against, but the foul fiend himself.
+
+"Well, sirs," he mocked them presently.  "How long am I to
+await your pleasure?"
+
+They snarled for answer, yet hung back until Colonel Pride's
+voice shook them into action.  In a body they charged him now,
+so suddenly and violently that he was forced to give way. 
+Cunningly did he ply his sword before them, but ineffectually. 
+They had adopted fresh tactics, and engaging his blade they
+acted cautiously and defensively, advancing steadily, and
+compelling him to fall back.
+
+Sir Crispin guessed their scheme at last, and vainly did he try
+to hold his ground; his retreat slackened perhaps, but it was
+still a retreat, and their defensive action gave him no
+opening.  Vainly, yet by every trick of fence he was master of,
+did he seek to lure the two foremost into attacking him;
+stolidly they pursued the adopted plan, and steadily they
+impelled him backward.
+
+At last he reached the staircase, and he realized that did he
+allow himself to go farther he was lost irretrievably.  Yet
+farther was he driven; despite the strenuous efforts he put
+forth, until on his right there was room for a man to slip on
+to the stairs and take him in the flank.  Twice one of his
+opponents essayed it, and twice did Galliard's deadly point
+repel him.  But at the third attempt the man got through,
+another stepped into his place in front, and thus from two,
+Crispin's immediate assailants became increased to three.
+
+He realized that the end was at hand, and wildly did he lay
+about him, but to no purpose.  And presently, he who had gained
+the stairs leaped suddenly upon him sideways, and clung to his
+swordarm.  Before he could make a move to shake himself free,
+the two that faced him had caught at his other arm.
+
+Like one possessed he struggled then, for the sheer lust of
+striving; but they that held him gripped effectively.
+
+Thrice they bore him struggling to the ground, and thrice he
+rose again and sought to shake them from him as a bull shakes
+off a pack of dogs.  But they held fast, and again they forced
+him down; others sprang to their aid, and the Tavern Knight
+could rise no more.
+
+"Disarm the dog!" cried Pride.  "Disarm and truss him hand and
+foot."
+
+"Sirs, you need not," he answered, gasping.  "I yield me.  Take
+my sword.  I'll do your bidding."
+
+The fight was fought and lost, but it had been a great Homeric
+struggle, and he rejoiced almost that upon so worthy a scene of
+his life was the curtain to fall, and again to hope that,
+thanks to the stand he had made, the King should have succeeded
+in effecting his escape.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI
+
+COMPANIONS IN MISFORTUNE
+
+
+Through the streets of Worcester the Roundheads dragged Sir
+Crispin, and for all that he was as hard and callous a man as
+any that ever buckled on a cuirass, the horrors that in going
+he beheld caused him more than once to shudder.
+
+The place was become a shambles, and the very kennels ran with
+blood.  The Royalist defeat was by now complete, and Cromwell's
+fanatic butchers overran the town, vying to outdo one another
+in savage cruelty and murder.  Houses were being broken into
+and plundered, and their inmates - resisting or unresisting;
+armed or unarmed; men, women and children alike were pitilessly
+being put to the sword.  Charged was the air of Worcester with
+the din of that fierce massacre.  The crashing of shivered
+timbers, as doors were beaten in, mingled with the clatter and
+grind of sword on sword, the crack of musket and pistol, the
+clank of armour, and the stamping of men and horses in that
+troubled hour.
+
+And above all rang out the fierce, raucous blasphemy of the
+slayers, and the shrieks of agony, the groans, the prayers, and
+curses of their victims.
+
+All this Sir Crispin saw and heard, and in the misery of it
+all, he for the while forgot his own sorry condition, and left
+unheeded the pike-butt wherewith the Puritan at his heels was
+urging him along.
+
+They paused at length in a quarter unknown to him before a
+tolerably large house.  Its doors hung wide, and across the
+threshold, in and out, moved two continuous streams of officers
+and men.
+
+A while Crispin and his captors stood in the spacious hall;
+then they ushered him roughly into one of the abutting rooms. 
+Here he was brought face to face with a man of middle height,
+red and coarse of countenance and large of nose, who stood
+fully armed in the centre of the chamber.  His head was
+uncovered, and on the table at his side stood the morion he had
+doffed.  He looked up as they entered, and for a few seconds
+rested his glance sourly upon the lank, bold-eyed prisoner, who
+coldly returned his stare.
+
+"Whom have we here?" he inquired at length, his scrutiny having
+told him nothing.
+
+"One whose offence is too heinous to have earned him a
+soldier's death, my lord," answered Pride.
+
+"Therein you lie, you damned rebel!" cried Crispin.  "If accuse
+you must, announce the truth.  Tell Master Cromwell" - for he
+had guessed the man's identity - "that single-handed I held my
+own against you and a score of you curs, and that not until I
+had cut down seven of them was I taken.  Tell him that, master
+psalm-singer, and let him judge whether you lied or not.  Tell
+him, too, that you, who - "
+
+"Have done!" cried Cromwell at length, stamping his foot. 
+"Peace, or I'll have you gagged.  Now, Colonel, let us hear
+your accusation."
+
+At great length, and with endless interlarding of proverbs did
+Pride relate how this impious malignant had been the means of
+the young man, Charles Stuart, making good his escape when
+otherwise he must have fallen into their hands.  He accused him
+also of the murder of his son and of four other stout,
+God-fearing troopers, and urged Cromwell to let him deal with
+the malignant as he deserved.
+
+The Lord General's answer took expression in a form that was
+little puritanical.  Then, checking himself:
+
+"He is the second they have brought me within ten minutes
+charged with the same offence," said he.  "The other one is a
+young fool who gave Charles Stuart his horse at Saint Martin's
+Gate.  But for him again the young man had been taken."
+
+"So he has escaped!" cried Crispin.  "Now, God be praised!"
+
+Cromwell stared at him blankly for a moment, then:
+
+"You will do well, sir," he muttered sourly, "to address the
+Lord on your own behalf.  As for that young man of Baal, your
+master, rejoice not yet in his escape.  By the same crowning
+mercy in which the Lord hath vouchsafed us victory to-day shall
+He also deliver the malignant youth into my hands.  For your
+share in retarding his capture your life, sir, shall pay
+forfeit.  You shall hang at daybreak together with that other
+malignant who assisted Charles at the Saint Martin's Gate."
+
+"I shall at least hang in good company," said Crispin
+pleasantly, "and for that, sir, I give you thanks."
+
+"You will pass the night with that other fool," Cromwell
+continued, without heeding the interruption, "and I pray that
+you may spend it in such meditation as shall fit you for your
+end.  Take him away."
+
+"But, my lord," exclaimed Pride, advancing.
+
+"What now?"
+
+Crispin caught not his answer, but his half-whispered words
+were earnest and pleading.  Cromwell shook his head.
+
+"I cannot sanction it.  Let it satisfy you that he dies.  I
+condole with you in your bereavement, but it is the fortune of
+war.  Let the thought that your son died in a godly cause be of
+comfort to you.  Bear in mind, Colonel Pride, that Abraham
+hesitated not to offer up his child to the Lord.  And so, fare
+you well."
+
+Colonel Pride's face worked oddly, and his eyes rested for a
+second upon the stern, unmoved figure of the Tavern Knight in
+malice and vindictiveness.  Then, shrugging his shoulders in
+token of unwilling resignation, he withdrew, whilst Crispin was
+led out.
+
+In the hall again they kept him waiting for some moments, until
+at length an officer came up, and bidding him follow, led the
+way to the guardroom.  Here they stripped him of his
+back-and-breast, and when that was done the officer again led
+the way, and Crispin followed between two troopers.  They made
+him mount three flights of stairs, and hurried him along a
+passage to a door by which a soldier stood mounting guard.  At
+a word from the officer the sentry turned, and unfastening the
+heavy bolts, he opened the door.  Roughly the officer bade Sir
+Crispin enter, and stood aside that he might pass.
+
+Crispin obeyed him silently, and crossed the threshold to find
+himself within a mean, gloomy chamber, and to hear the heavy
+door closed and made fast again behind him.  His stout heart
+sank a little as he realized that that closed door shut out to
+him the world for ever; but once again would he cross that
+threshold, and that would be the preface to the crossing of the
+greater threshold of eternity.
+
+Then something stirred in one of that room's dark corners, and
+he started, to see that he was not alone, remembering that
+Cromwell had said he was to have a companion in his last hours.
+
+"Who are you?" came a dull voice - a voice that was eloquent of
+misery.
+
+"Master Stewart!" he exclaimed, recognizing his companion.  "So
+it was you gave the King your horse at the Saint Martin's Gate!
+May Heaven reward you.  Gadswounds," he added, "I had little
+thought to meet you again this side the grave."
+
+"Would to Heaven you had not!" was the doleful answer.  "What
+make you here?"
+
+"By your good leave and with your help I'll make as merry as a
+man may whose sands are all but run.  The Lord General - whom
+the devil roast in his time will make a pendulum of me at
+daybreak, and gives me the night in which to prepare."
+
+The lad came forward into the light, and eyed Sir Crispin
+sorrowfully.
+
+"We are companions in misfortune, then."
+
+"Were we ever companions in aught else? Come, sir, be of better
+cheer.  Since it is to be our last night in this poor world,
+let us spend it as pleasantly as may be."
+
+"Pleasantly?"
+
+"Twill clearly be difficult," answered Crispin, with a laugh. 
+"Were we in Christian hands they'd not deny us a black jack
+over which to relish our last jest, and to warm us against the
+night air, which must be chill in this garret.  But these
+crop-ears ..."  He paused to peer into the pitcher on the
+table.  "Water!  Pah!  A scurvy lot, these psalm-mongers!"
+
+"Merciful Heaven!  Have you no thought for your end?"
+
+"Every thought, good youth, every thought, and I would fain
+prepare me for the morning's dance in a more jovial and hearty
+fashion than Old Noll will afford me - damn him!"
+
+Kenneth drew back in horror.  His old dislike for Crispin was
+all aroused by this indecent flippancy at such a time.  Just
+then the thought of spending the night in his company almost
+effaced the horror of the gallows whereof he had been a prey.
+
+Noting the movement, Crispin laughed disdainfully, and walked
+towards the window.  It was a small opening, by which two iron
+bars, set crosswise, defied escape.  Moreover, as Crispin
+looked out, he realized that a more effective barrier lay in
+the height of the window itself.  The house overlooked the
+river on that side; it was built upon an embankment some thirty
+feet high; around this, at the base of the edifice, and some
+forty feet below the window, ran a narrow pathway protected by
+an iron railing.  But so narrow was it, that had a man sprung
+from the casement of Crispin's prison, it was odds he would
+have fallen into the river some seventy feet below.  Crispin
+turned away with a sigh.  He had approached the window almost
+in hope; he quitted it in absolute despair.
+
+"Ah, well," said he, "we will hang, and there's the end of it."
+
+Kenneth had resumed his seat in the corner, and, wrapped in his
+cloak, he sat steeped in meditation, his comely young face
+seared with lines of pain.  As Crispin looked upon him then,
+his heart softened and went out to the lad - went out as it had
+done on the night when first he had beheld him in the courtyard
+of Perth Castle.
+
+He recalled the details of that meeting; he remembered the
+sympathy that had drawn him to the boy, and how Kenneth had at
+first appeared to reciprocate that feeling, until he came to
+know him for the rakehelly, godless ruffler that he was.  He
+thought of the gulf that gradually had opened up between them. 
+The lad was righteous and God-fearing, truthful and sober,
+filled with stern ideals by which he sought to shape his life. 
+He had taxed Crispin with his dissoluteness, and Crispin,
+despising him for a milksop, had returned to his disgust with
+mockery, and had found a fiendish pleasure in arousing that
+disgust at every turn.
+
+To-night, as Crispin eyed the youth, and remembered that at
+dawn he was to die in his company, he realized that he had used
+him ill, that his behaviour towards him had been that of the
+dissolute ruffler he was become, rather than of the gentleman
+he had once accounted himself.
+
+"Kenneth," he said at length, and his voice bore so unusually
+mild a ring that the lad looked up in surprise.  "I have heard
+tell that it is no uncommon thing for men upon the threshold of
+eternity to seek to repair some of the evil they may have done
+in life."
+
+Kenneth shuddered.  Crispin's words reminded him again of his
+approaching end.  The ruffler paused a moment, as if awaiting a
+reply or a word of encouragement.  Then, as none came, he
+continued:
+
+"I am not one of your repentant sinners, Kenneth.  I have lived
+my life - God, what a life! - and as I have lived I shall die,
+unflinching and unchanged.  Dare one to presume that a few
+hours spent in whining prayers shall atone for years of
+reckless dissoluteness?  "Tis a doctrine of cravens, who,
+having lacked in life the strength to live as conscience bade
+them, lack in death the courage to stand by that life's deeds. 
+I am no such traitor to myself.  If my life has been vile my
+temptations have been sore, and the rest is in God's hands. 
+But in my course I have sinned against many men; many a tall
+fellow's life have I wantonly wrecked; some, indeed, I have
+even taken in wantonness or anger.  They are not by, nor, were
+they, could I now make amends.  But you at least are here, and
+what little reparation may lie in asking pardon I can make. 
+When I first saw you at Perth it was my wish to make you my
+friend - a feeling I have not had these twenty years towards
+any man.  I failed.  How else could it have been?  The dove may
+not nest with the carrion bird."
+
+"Say no more, sir," cried Kenneth, genuinely moved, and still
+more amazed by this curious humility in one whom he had never
+known other than arrogant and mocking.  "I beseech you, say no
+more.  For what trifling wrongs you may have done me I forgive
+you as freely as I would be forgiven.  Is it not written that
+it shall be so?"  And he held out his hand.
+
+"A little more I must say, Kenneth," answered the other,
+leaving the outstretched hand unheeded.  "The feeling that was
+born in me towards you at Perth Castle is on me again.  I seek
+not to account for it.  Perchance it springs from my
+recognition of the difference betwixt us; perchance I see in
+you a reflection of what once I was myself - honourable and
+true.  But let that be.  The sun is setting over yonder, and
+you and I will behold it no more.  That to me is a small thing. 
+I am weary.  Hope is dead; and when that is dead what does it
+signify that the body die also?  Yet in these last hours that
+we shall spend together I would at least have your esteem.  I
+would have you forget my past harshness and the wrongs that I
+may have done you down to that miserable affair of your
+sweetheart's letter, yesterday.  I would have you realize that
+if I am vile, I am but such as a vile world hath made me.  And
+tomorrow when we go forth together, I would have you see in me
+at least a man in whose company you are not ashamed to die."
+
+Again the lad shuddered.
+
+"Shall I tell you my story, Kenneth?  I have a strong desire to
+go over this poor life of mine again in memory, and by giving
+my thoughts utterance it may be that they will take more vivid
+shape.  For the rest my tale may wile away a little of the time
+that's left, and when you have heard me you shall judge me,
+Kenneth.  What say you?"
+
+Despite the parlous condition whereunto the fear of the morrow
+had reduced him, this new tone of Galliard's so wrought upon
+him then that he was almost eager in his request that Sir
+Crispin should unfold his story.  And this the Tavern Knight
+then set himself to do.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII
+
+THE TAVERN KNIGHT'S STORY
+
+
+Sir Crispin walked from the window by which he had been
+standing, to the rough bed, and flung himself full length upon
+it.  The only chair that dismal room contained was occupied by
+Kenneth.  Galliard heaved a sigh of physical satisfaction.
+
+"Fore George, I knew not I was so tired," he murmured.  And
+with that he lapsed for some moments into silence, his brows
+contracted in the frown of one who collects his thoughts.  At
+length he began, speaking in calm, unemotional tones that held
+perchance deeper pathos than a more passionate utterance could
+have endowed them with:
+
+"Long ago - twenty years ago - I was, as I have said, an
+honourable lad, to whom the world was a fair garden, a place of
+rosebuds, fragrant with hope.  Those, Kenneth, were my
+illusions.  They are the illusions of youth; they are youth
+itself, for when our illusions are gone we are no longer young
+no matter what years we count.  Keep your illusions, Kenneth;
+treasure them, hoard them jealously for as long as you may."
+
+"I dare swear, sir," answered the lad, with bitter humour,
+"that such illusions as I have I shall treasure all my life. 
+You forget, Sir Crispin."
+
+"'Slife, I had indeed forgotten.  For the moment I had gone
+back twenty years, and to-morrow was none so near."  He laughed
+softly, as though his lapse of memory amused him.  Then he
+resumed:
+
+"I was the only son, Kenneth, of the noblest gentleman that
+ever lived - the heir to an ancient, honoured name, and to a
+castle as proud and lands as fair and broad as any in England.
+
+"They lie who say that from the dawn we may foretell the day. 
+Never was there a brighter dawn than that of my life; never a
+day so wasted; never an evening so dark.  But let that be.
+
+"Our lands were touched upon the northern side by those of a
+house with which we had been at feud for two hundred years and
+more.  Puritans they were, stern and haughty in their ungodly
+righteousness.  They held us dissolute because we enjoyed the
+life that God had given us, and there I am told the hatred
+first began.
+
+"When I was a lad of your years, Kenneth, the hall - ours was
+the castle, theirs the hall - was occupied by two young sparks
+who made little shift to keep up the pious reputation of their
+house.  They dwelt there with their mother - a woman too weak
+to check their ways, and holding, mayhap, herself, views not
+altogether puritanical.  They discarded the sober black their
+forbears had worn for generations, and donned gay Cavalier
+garments.  They let their love-locks grow; set plumes in their
+castors and jewels in their ears; they drank deep, ruffled it
+with the boldest and decked their utterance with great oaths -
+for to none doth blasphemy come more readily than to lips that
+in youth have been overmuch shaped in unwilling prayer.
+
+"Me they avoided as they would a plague, and when at times we
+met, our salutations were grave as those of, men on the point
+of crossing swords.  I despised them for their coarse, ruffling
+apostasy more than ever my father had despised their father for
+a bigot, and they guessing or knowing by instinct what was in
+my mind held me in deeper rancour even than their ancestors had
+done mine.  And more galling still and yet a sharper spur to
+their hatred did those whelps find in the realization that all
+the countryside held, as it had held for ages, us to be their
+betters.  A hard blow to their pride was that, but their
+revenge was not long in coming.
+
+"It chanced they had a cousin - a maid as sweet and fair and
+pure as they were hideous and foul.  We met in the meads - she
+and I.  Spring was the time - God!  It seems but yesterday! -
+and each in our bearing towards the other forgot the traditions
+of the names we bore.  And as at first we had met by chance, so
+did we meet later by contrivance, not once or twice, but many
+times.  God, how sweet she was!  How sweet was all the world! 
+How sweet it was to live and to be young!  We loved.  How else
+could it have been?  What to us were traditions, what to us the
+hatred that for centuries had held our families asunder?  In us
+it lay to set aside all that.
+
+"And so I sought my father.  He cursed me at first for an
+unnatural son who left unheeded the dictates of our blood.  But
+anon, when on my knees I had urged my cause with all the
+eloquent fervour that is but of youth - youth that loves - my
+father cursed no more.  His thoughts went back maybe to the
+days of his own youth, and he bade me rise and go a-wooing as I
+listed.  Nay, more than that he did.  The first of our name was
+he out of ten generations to set foot across the threshold of
+the hall; he went on my behalf to sue for their cousin's hand.
+
+"Then was their hour.  To them that had been taught the
+humiliating lesson that we were their betters, one of us came
+suing.  They from whom the countryside looked for silence when
+one of us spoke, had it in their hands at length to say us nay. 
+And they said it.  What answer my father made them, Kenneth, I
+know not, but very white was his face when I met him on the
+castle steps on his return.  In burning words he told me of the
+insult they had put upon him, then silently he pointed to the
+Toledo that two years before he had brought me out of Spain,
+and left me.  But I had understood.  Softly I unsheathed that
+virgin blade and read the Spanish inscription, that through my
+tears of rage and shame seemed blurred; a proud inscription was
+it, instinct with the punctilio of proud Spain - "Draw me not
+without motive, sheathe me not without honour."  Motive there
+was and to spare; honour I swore there should be; and with that
+oath, and that brave sword girt to me, I set out to my first
+combat."
+
+Sir Crispin paused and a sigh escaped him, followed by a laugh
+of bitterness.
+
+"I lost that sword years ago," said he musingly.  "The sword
+and I have been close friends in life, but my companion has
+been a blade of coarser make, carrying no inscriptions to prick
+at a man's conscience and make a craven of him."
+
+He laughed again, and again he fell a-musing, till Kenneth's
+voice aroused him.
+
+"Your story, sir."
+
+Twilight shadows were gathering in their garret, and as he
+turned his face towards the youth, he was unable to make out
+his features; but his tone had been eager, and Crispin noted
+that he sat with head bent forward and that his eyes shone
+feverishly.
+
+"It interests you, eh?  Ah, well - hot foot I went to the hall,
+and with burning words I called upon those dogs to render
+satisfaction for the dishonour they had put upon my house. 
+Will you believe, Kenneth, that they denied me?  They sheltered
+their craven lives behind a shield of mock valour.  They would
+not fight a boy, they said, and bade me get my beard grown when
+haply they would give ear to my grievance.
+
+"And so, a shame and rage a hundredfold more bitter than that
+which I had borne thither did I carry thence.  My father bade
+me treasure up the memory of it against the time when my riper
+years should compel them to attend me, and this, by my every
+hope of heaven, I swore to do.  He bade me further efface for
+ever from my mind all thought or hope of union with their
+cousin, and though I made him no answer at the time, yet in my
+heart I promised to obey him in that, too.  But I was young -
+scarce twenty.  A week without sight of my mistress and I grew
+sick with despair.  Then at length I came upon her, pale and
+tearful, one evening, and in an agony of passion and
+hopelessness I flung myself at her feet, and implored her to
+keep true to me and wait, and she, poor maid, to her undoing
+swore that she would.  You are yourself a lover, Kenneth, and
+you may guess something of the impatience that anon beset me. 
+How could I wait?  I asked her this.
+
+"Some fifty miles from the castle there was a little farm, in
+the very heart of the country, which had been left me by a
+sister of my mother's.  Thither I now implored her to repair
+with me.  I would find a priest to wed us, and there we should
+live a while in happiness, in solitude, and in love.  An
+alluring picture did I draw with all a lover's cunning, and to
+the charms of it she fell a victim.  We fled three days later.
+
+"We were wed in the village that pays allegiance to the castle,
+and thereafter we travelled swiftly and undisturbed to that
+little homestead.  There in solitude, with but two servants - a
+man and a maid whom I could trust - we lived and loved, and for
+a season, brief as all happiness is doomed to be, we were
+happy.  Her cousins had no knowledge of that farm of mine, and
+though they searched the country for many a mile around, they
+searched in vain.  My father knew - as I learned afterwards -
+but deeming that what was done might not be undone, he held his
+peace.  In the following spring a babe was born to us, and our
+bliss made heaven of that cottage.
+
+"Twas a month or so after the birth of our child that the blow
+descended.  I was away, enjoying alone the pleasures of the
+chase; my man was gone a journey to the nearest town, whence he
+would not return until the morrow.  Oft have I cursed the folly
+that led me to take my gun and go forth into the woods, leaving
+no protector for my wife but one weak woman.
+
+"I returned earlier than I had thought to do, led mayhap by
+some angel that sought to have me back in time.  But I came too
+late.  At my gate I found two freshly ridden horses tethered,
+and it was with a dull foreboding in my heart that I sprang
+through the open door.  Within - O God, the anguish of it! -
+stretched on the floor I beheld my love, a gaping sword-wound
+in her side, and the ground all bloody about her.  For a moment
+I stood dumb in the spell of that horror, then a movement
+beyond, against the wall, aroused me, and I beheld her
+murderers cowering there, one with a naked sword in his hand.
+
+"In that fell hour, Kenneth, my whole nature changed, and one
+who had ever been gentle was transformed into the violent,
+passionate man that you have known.  As my eye encountered then
+her cousins, my blood seemed on the instant curdled in my
+veins; my teeth were set hard; my nerves and sinews knotted; my
+hands instinctively shifted to the barrel of my fowling-piece
+and clutched it with the fierceness that was in me - the
+fierceness of the beast about to spring upon those that have
+brought it to bay.
+
+"For a moment I stood swaying there, my eyes upon them, and
+holding their craven glances fascinated.  Then with a roar I
+leapt forward, the stock of my fowling-piece swung high above
+my head.  And, as God lives, Kenneth, I had sent them straight
+to hell ere they could have raised a hand or made a cry to stay
+me.  But as I sprang my foot slipped in the blood of my
+beloved, and in my fall I came close to her where she lay.  The
+fowling-piece had escaped my grasp and crashed against the
+wall.
+
+"I scarce knew what I did, but as I lay beside her it came to
+me that I did not wish to rise again - that already I had lived
+overlong.  It came to me that, seeing me fallen, haply those
+cowards would seize the chance to make an end of me as I lay. 
+I wished it so in that moment's frenzy, for I made no attempt
+to rise or to defend myself; instead I set my arms about my
+poor murdered love, and against her cold cheek I set my face
+that was well-nigh as cold.
+
+"And thus I lay, nor did they keep me long.  A sword was passed
+through me from back to breast, whilst he who did it cursed me
+with a foul oath.  The room grew dim; methought it swayed and
+that the walls were tottering; there was a buzz of sound in my
+ears, then a piercing cry in a baby voice.  At the sound of it
+I vaguely wished for the strength to rise.  As in the distance,
+I heard one of those butchers cry, "Haste, man; slit me that
+squalling bastard's throat!"  And then I must have swooned."
+
+Kenneth shuddered.
+
+"My God, how horrible!" he cried.  "But you were avenged, Sir
+Crispin," he added eagerly; "you were avenged?"
+
+"When I regained consciousness," Crispin continued, as if he
+had not heard Kenneth's exclamation, "the cottage was in
+flames, set alight by them to burn the evidence of their foul
+deed.  What I did I know not.  I have tried to urge my memory
+along from the point of my awakening, but in vain.  By what
+miracle I crawled forth, I cannot tell; but in the morning I
+was found by my man lying prone in the garden, half a dozen
+paces from the blackened ruins of the cottage, as near death as
+man may go and live.
+
+"God willed that I should not die, but it was close upon a year
+before I was restored to any semblance of my former self, and
+then I was so changed that I was hardly to be recognized as
+that same joyous, vigorous lad, who had set out, fowling-piece
+on shoulder, one fine morning a year agone.  There was grey in
+my hair, as much as there is now, though I was but twenty-one;
+my face was seared and marked as that of a man who had lived
+twice my years.  It was to my faithful servant that I owed my
+life, though I ask myself to-night whether I have cause for
+gratitude towards him on that score.
+
+"So soon as I had regained sufficient strength, I went secretly
+home, wishing that men might continue to believe me dead.  My
+father I found much aged by grief, but he was kind and tender
+with me beyond all words.  From him I had it that our enemies
+were gone to France; it would seem they had thought it better
+to remain absent for a while.  He had learnt that they were in
+Paris, and hither I determined forthwith to follow them. 
+Vainly did my father remonstrate with me; vainly did he urge me
+rather: to bear my story to the King at Whitehall and seek. 
+for justice.  I had been well advised had I obeyed this
+counsel, but I burned to take my vengeance with my own hands,
+and with this purpose I repaired to France.
+
+"Two nights after my arrival in Paris it was my, ill-fortune to
+be embroiled in a rough-and-tumble in the streets, and by an
+ill-chance I killed a man - the first was he of several that I
+have sent whither I am going to-morrow.  The affair was like to
+have cost me my life, but by another of those miracles which
+have prolonged it, I was sent instead to the galleys on the
+Mediterranean.  It was only wanting that, after all that
+already I had endured, I should become a galley-slave!
+
+"For twelve long years I toiled at an oar, and waited.  If I
+lived I would return to England; and if I returned, woe unto
+those that had wrecked my life - my body and my soul.  I did
+live, and I did return.  The Civil War had broken out, and I
+came to throw my sword into the balance on the King's side: I
+came, too, to be avenged, but that would wait.
+
+"Meanwhile, the score had grown heavier.  I went home to find
+the castle in usurping hands - in the hands of my enemies.  My
+father was dead; he died a few months after I had gone to
+France; and those murderers had advanced a claim that through
+my marriage with their cousin, since dead, and through my own
+death, there being no next of kin, they were the heirs-at-law. 
+The Parliament allowed their claim, and they were installed. 
+But when I came they were away, following the fortunes of the
+Parliament that had served them so well.  And so I determined
+to let my vengeance wait until the war were ended and the
+Parliament destroyed.  In a hundred engagements did I
+distinguish myself by my recklessness even as at other seasons
+I distinguished myself by my debaucheries.
+
+"Ah, Kenneth, you have been hard upon me for my vices, for my
+abuses of the cup, and all the rest.  But can you be hard upon
+me still, knowing what I had suffered, and what a weight of
+misery I bore with me?  I, whose life was wrecked beyond
+salvation; who only lived that I might slit the throats of
+those that had so irreparably wronged me.  Think you still that
+it was so vicious a thing, so unpardonable an offence to seek
+the blessed nepenthe of the wine-cup, the heavenly
+forgetfulness that its abuses brought me?  Is it strange that I
+became known as the wildest tantivy boy that rode with the
+King?  What else had I?"
+
+"In all truth your trials were sore," said the lad in a voice
+that contained a note of sympathy.  And yet there was a certain
+restraint that caught the Tavern Knight's ear.  He turned his
+head and bent his eyes in the lad's direction, but it was quite
+dark by now, and he failed to make out his companion's face.
+
+"My tale is told, Kenneth.  The rest you can guess.  The King
+did not prevail and I was forced to fly from England with those
+others who escaped from the butchers that had made a martyr of
+Charles.  I took service in France under the great Conde, and I
+saw some mighty battles.  At length came the council of Breda
+and the invitation to Charles the Second to receive the crown
+of Scotland.  I set out again to follow his fortunes as I had
+followed his father's, realizing that by so doing I followed my
+own, and that did he prevail I should have the redress and
+vengeance so long awaited.  To-day has dashed my last hope;
+to-morrow at this hour it will not signify.  And yet much would
+I give to have my fingers on the throats of those two hounds
+before the hangman's close around my own."
+
+There was a spell of silence as the two men sat, both breathing
+heavily in the gloom that enveloped them.  At length:
+
+"You have heard my story, Kenneth," said Crispin.
+
+"I have heard, Sir Crispin, and God knows I pity you."
+
+That was all, and Galliard felt that it was not enough.  He had
+lacerated his soul with those grim memories to earn a yet
+kinder word.  He had looked even to hear the lad suing for
+pardon for the harsh opinions wherein he had held him.  Strange
+was this yearning of his for the boy's sympathy.  He who for
+twenty years had gone unloving and unloved, sought now in his
+extremity affection from a fellow-man.
+
+And so in the gloom he waited for a kinder word that came not;
+then - so urgent was his need - he set himself to beg it.
+
+"Can you not understand now, Kenneth, how I came to fall so
+low?  Can you not understand this dissoluteness of mine, which
+led them to dub me the Tavern Knight after the King conferred
+upon me the honour of knighthood for that stand of mine in
+Fifeshire?  You must understand, Kenneth," he insisted almost
+piteously, "and knowing all, you must judge me more mercifully
+than hitherto."
+
+"It is not mine to judge, Sir Crispin.  I pity you with all my
+heart," the lad replied, not ungently.
+
+Still the knight was dissatisfied.  "Yours it is to judge as
+every man may judge his fellowman.  You mean it is not yours to
+sentence.  But if yours it were, Kenneth, what then?"
+
+The lad paused a moment ere he answered.  His bigoted
+Presbyterian training was strong within him, and although, as
+he said, he pitied Galliard, yet to him whose mind was stuffed
+with life's precepts, and who knew naught of the trials it
+brings to some and the temptations to which they were not human
+did they not succumb - it seemed that vice was not to be
+excused by misfortune.  Out of mercy then he paused, and for a
+moment he had it even in his mind to cheer his fellow-captive
+with a lie.  Then, remembering that he was to die upon the
+morrow, and that at such a time it was not well to risk the
+perdition of his soul by an untruth, however merciful, he
+answered slowly:
+
+"Were I to judge you, since you ask me, sir, I should be
+merciful because of your misfortunes.  And yet, Sir Crispin,
+your profligacy and the evil you have wrought in life must
+weigh heavily against you."  Had this immaculate bigot, this
+churlish milksop been as candid with himself as he was with
+Crispin, he must have recognized that it was mainly Crispin's
+offences towards himself that his mind now dwelt on in=deeper
+rancour than became one so well acquainted with the Lord's
+Prayer.
+
+"You had not cause enough," he added impressively, "to defile
+your soul and risk its eternal damnation because the evil of
+others had wrecked your life."
+
+Crispin drew breath with the sharp hiss of one in pain, and for
+a moment after all was still.  Then a bitter laugh broke from
+him.
+
+"Bravely answered, reverend sir," he cried with biting scorn. 
+"I marvel only that you left your pulpit to gird on a sword;
+that you doffed your cassock to don a cuirass.  Here is a text
+for you who deal in texts, my brave Jack Presbyter - "Judge you
+your neighbour as you would yourself be judged; be merciful as
+you would hope for mercy."  Chew you the cud of that until the
+hangman's coming in the morning.  Good night to you."
+
+And throwing himself back upon the bed, Crispin sought comfort
+in sleep.  His limbs were heavy and his heart was sick.
+
+"You misapprehend me, Sir Crispin," cried the lad, stung almost
+to shame by Galliard's reproach, and also mayhap into some fear
+that hereafter he should find little mercy for his own lack of
+it towards a poor fellow-sinner.  "I spoke not as I would
+judge, but as the Church teaches."
+
+"If the Church teaches no better I rejoice that I was no
+churchman," grunted Crispin.
+
+"For myself," the lad pursued, heeding not the irreverent
+interruption, "as I have said, I pity you with all my heart. 
+More than that, so deeply do I feel, so great a loathing and
+indignation has your story sown in my heart, that were our
+liberty now restored us I would willingly join hands with you
+in wreaking vengeance on these evildoers."
+
+Sir Crispin laughed.  He judged the tone rather than the words,
+and it rang hollow.
+
+"Where are your wits, O casuist?" he cried mockingly.  "Where
+are your doctrines?  'Vengeance is mine, saith the Lord!' 
+Pah!"
+
+And with that final ejaculation, pregnant with contempt and
+bitterness, he composed himself to sleep.
+
+He was accursed he told himself.  He must die alone, as he had
+lived.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII
+
+THE TWISTED BAR
+
+
+Nature asserted herself, and, despite his condition, Crispin
+slept.  Kenneth sat huddled on his chair, and in awe and
+amazement he listened to his companion's regular breathing.  He
+had not Galliard's nerves nor Galliard's indifference to death,
+so that neither could he follow his example, nor yet so much as
+realize how one should slumber upon the very brink of eternity.
+
+For a moment his wonder stood perilously near to admiration;
+then his religious training swayed him, and his righteousness
+almost drew from him a contempt of this man's apathy.  There
+was much of the Pharisee's attitude towards the publican in his
+mood.
+
+Anon that regular breathing grew irritating to him; it drew so
+marked a contrast 'twixt Crispin's frame of mind and his own. 
+Whilst Crispin had related his story, the interest it awakened
+had served to banish the spectre of fear which the thought of
+the morrow conjured up.  Now that Crispin was silent and
+asleep, that spectre returned, and the lad grew numb and sick
+with the horror of his position.
+
+Thought followed thought as he sat huddled there with sunken
+head and hands clasped tight between his knees, and they were
+mostly of his dull uneventful days in Scotland, and ever and
+anon of Cynthia, his beloved.  Would she hear of his end? 
+Would she weep for him? - as though it mattered!  And every
+train of thought that he embarked upon brought him to the same
+issue - to-morrow!  Shuddering he would clench his hands still
+tighter, and the perspiration would stand' out in beads upon
+his callow brow.
+
+At length he flung himself upon his knees to address not so
+much a prayer as a maudlin grievance to his Creator.  He felt
+himself a craven - doubly so by virtue of the peaceful
+breathing of that sinner he despised - and he told himself that
+it was not in fear a gentleman should meet his end.
+
+"But I shall be brave to-morrow.  I shall be brave," he
+muttered, and knew not that it was vanity begat the thought,
+and vanity that might uphold him on the morrow when there were
+others by, however broken might be his spirit now.
+
+Meanwhile Crispin slept.  When he awakened the light of a
+lanthorn was on his face, and holding it stood beside him a
+tall black figure in a cloak and a slouched hat whose broad
+brim left the features unrevealed.
+
+Still half asleep, and blinking like an owl, he sat up.
+
+"I have always held burnt sack to be well enough, but - "
+
+He stopped short, fully awake at last, and, suddenly
+remembering his condition and thinking they were come for him,
+he drew a sharp breath and in a voice as indifferent as he
+could make it:
+
+"What's o'clock?" he asked.
+
+"Past midnight, miserable wretch," was the answer delivered in
+a deep droning voice.  "Hast entered upon thy last day of life
+- a day whose sun thou'lt never see.  But five hours more are
+left thee."
+
+"And it is to tell me this that you have awakened me?" demanded
+Galliard in such a voice that he of the cloak recoiled a step,
+as if he thought a blow must follow.  "Out on you for an
+unmannerly cur to break upon a gentleman's repose."
+
+"I come," returned the other in his droning voice, "to call
+upon thee to repent."
+
+"Plague me not," answered Crispin, with a yawn.  "I would
+sleep."
+
+"Soundly enough shalt thou sleep in a few hours' time.  Bethink
+thee, miserable sinner, of thy soul."
+
+"Sir," cried the Tavern Knight, "I am a man of marvellous short
+endurance.  But mark you this your ways to heaven are not my
+ways.  Indeed, if heaven be peopled by such croaking things as
+you, I shall be thankful to escape it.  So go, my friend, ere I
+become discourteous."
+
+The minister stood in silence for a moment; then setting his
+lanthorn upon the table, he raised his hands and eyes towards
+the low ceiling of the chamber.
+
+"Vouchsafe, O Lord," he prayed, "to touch yet the callous heart
+of this obdurate, incorrigible sinner, this wicked, perjured
+and blasphemous malignant, whose - "
+
+He got no further.  Crispin was upon his feet, his harsh
+countenance thrust into the very face of the minister; his eyes
+ablaze.
+
+"Out!" he thundered, pointing to the door.  "Out!  Begone!  I
+would not be guilty at the end of my life of striking a man in
+petticoats.  But go whilst I can bethink me of it!  Go - take
+your prayers to hell."
+
+The minister fell back before that blaze of passion.  For a
+second he appeared to hesitate, then he turned towards Kenneth,
+who stood behind in silence.  But the lad's Presbyterian
+rearing had taught him to hate a sectarian as he would a papist
+or as he would the devil, and he did no more than echo
+Galliard's words - though in a gentler key.
+
+"I pray you go," he said.  "But if you would perform an act of
+charity, leave your lanthorn.  It will be dark enough
+hereafter."
+
+The minister looked keenly at the boy, and won over by the
+humility of his tone, he set the lanthorn on the table.  Then
+moving towards the door, he stopped and addressed himself to
+Crispin.
+
+"I go since you oppose with violence my ministrations.  But I
+shall pray for you, and I will return anon, when perchance your
+heart shall be softened by the near imminence of your end."
+
+"Sir," quoth Crispin wearily, "you would outtalk a woman."
+
+"I've done, I've done," he cried in trepidation, making shift
+to depart.  On the threshold he paused again.  "I leave you the
+lanthorn," he said.  "May it light you to a godlier frame of
+mind.  I shall return at daybreak."  And with that he went.
+
+Crispin yawned noisily when he was gone, and stretched himself. 
+Then pointing to the pallet:
+
+"Come, lad, 'tis your turn," said he.
+
+Kenneth shivered.  "I could not sleep," he cried.  "I could
+not."
+
+"As you will."  And shrugging his shoulders, Crispin sat down
+on the edge of the bed.
+
+"For cold comforters commend me to these cropeared cuckolds,"
+he grumbled.  "They are all thought for a man's soul, but for
+his body they care nothing.  Here am I who for the last ten
+hours have had neither meat nor drink.  Not that I mind the
+meat so much, but, 'slife, my throat is dry as one of their
+sermons, and I would cheerfully give four of my five hours of
+life for a posset of sack.  A paltry lot are they, Kenneth,
+holding that because a man must die at dawn he need not sup
+to-night.  Heigho!  Some liar hath said that he who sleeps
+dines, and if I sleep perchance I shall forget my thirst."
+
+He stretched himself upon the bed, and presently he slept
+again.
+
+It was Kenneth who next awakened him.  He opened his eyes to
+find the lad shivering as with an ague.  His face was ashen.
+
+"Now, what's amiss?  Oddslife, what ails you?" he cried.
+
+"Is there no way, Sir Crispin?  Is there naught you can do?"
+wailed the youth.
+
+Instantly Galliard sat up.
+
+"Poor lad, does the thought of the rope affright you?"
+
+Kenneth bowed his head in silence.
+
+"Tis a scurvy death, I own.  Look you, Kenneth, there is a
+dagger in my boot.  If you would rather have cold steel, 'tis
+done.  It is the last service I may render you, and I'll be as
+gentle as a mistress.  Just there, over the heart, and you'll
+know no more until you are in Paradise."
+
+Turning down the leather of his right boot, he thrust his hand
+down the side of his leg.  But Kenneth sprang back with a cry.
+
+"No, no," he cried, covering his face with his hands.  "Not
+that!  You don't understand.  It is death itself I would cheat. 
+What odds to exchange one form for another?  Is there no way
+out of this?  Is there no way, Sir Crispin?" he demanded with
+clenched hands.
+
+"The approach of death makes you maudlin, sir," quoth the
+other, in whom this pitiful show of fear produced a profound
+disgust.  "Is there no way; say you?  There is the window, but
+'tis seventy feet above the river; and there is the door, but
+it is locked, and there is a sentry on the other side."
+
+"I might have known it.  I might have known that you would mock
+me.  What is death to you, to whom life offers nothing?  For
+you the prospect of it has no terrors.  But for me - bethink
+you, sir, I am scarce eighteen years of age," he added
+brokenly, "and life was full of promise for me.  O God, pity
+me!"
+
+"True, lad, true," the knight returned in softened tones.  "I
+had forgotten that death is not to you the blessed release that
+it is to me.  And yet, and yet," he mused, "do I not die
+leaving a task unfulfilled - a task of vengeance?  And by my
+soul, I know no greater spur to make a man cling to life.  Ah,"
+he sighed wistfully, "if indeed I could find a way."
+
+"Think, Sir Crispin, think," cried the boy feverishly.
+
+"To what purpose?  There is the window.  But even if the bars
+were moved, which I see no manner of accomplishing, the drop to
+the river is seventy feet at least.  I measured it with my eyes
+when first we entered here.  We have no rope.  Your cloak rent
+in two and the pieces tied together would scarce yield us ten
+feet.  Would you care to jump the remaining sixty?"
+
+At the very thought of it the lad trembled, noting which Sir
+Crispin laughed softly.
+
+"There.  And yet, boy, it would be taking a risk which if
+successful would mean life - if otherwise, a speedier end than
+even the rope will afford you.  Oddslife," he cried, suddenly
+springing to his feet, and seizing the lanthorn.  "Let us look
+at these bars."
+
+He stepped across to the window, and held the light so that its
+rays fell full upon the base of the vertical iron that barred
+the square.
+
+"It is much worn by rust, Kenneth," he muttered.  "The removal
+of this single piece of iron," and he touched the lower arm of
+the cross, "should afford us passage.  Who knows?  Hum!"
+
+He walked back to the table and set the lanthorn down.  In a
+tremble, Kenneth watched his every movement, but spoke no word.
+
+"He who throws a main," said Galliard, "must set a stake upon
+the board.  I set my life - a stake that is already forfeit -
+and I throw for liberty.  If I win, I win all; if I lose, I
+lose naught.  'Slife, I have thrown many a main with Fate, but
+never one wherein the odds were more generous.  Come, Kenneth,
+it is the only way, and we will attempt it if we can but move
+the bar."
+
+"You mean to leap?" gasped the lad.
+
+"Into the river.  It is the only way."
+
+"O God, I dare not.  It is a fearsome drop."
+
+"Longer, I confess, than they'll give you in an hour's time, if
+you remain; but it may lead elsewhere."
+
+The boy's mouth was parched.  His eyes burned in their,
+sockets, and yet his limbs shook with cold - but not the cold
+of that September night.
+
+"I'll try it," he muttered with a gulp.  Then suddenly
+clutching Galliard's arm, he pointed to the window.
+
+"What ails you now?" quoth Crispin testily.
+
+"The dawn, Sir Crispin.  The dawn."
+
+Crispin looked, and there, like a gash in the blackness of the
+heavens, he beheld a streak of grey.
+
+"Quick, Sir Crispin; there is no time to lose.  The minister
+said he would return at daybreak."
+
+"Let him come," answered Galliard grimly, as he moved towards
+the casement.
+
+He gripped the lower bar with his lean, sinewy hands, and
+setting his knee against the masonry beneath it, he exerted the
+whole of his huge strength - that awful strength acquired
+during those years of toil as a galley-slave, which even his
+debaucheries had not undermined.  He felt his sinews straining
+until it seemed that they must crack; the sweat stood out upon
+his brow; his breathing grew stertorous.
+
+"It gives," he panted at last.  "It gives."
+
+He paused in his efforts, and withdrew his hands.
+
+"I must breathe a while.  One other effort such as that, and it
+is done.  'Fore George," he laughed, "it is the first time
+water has stood my friend, for the rains have sadly rusted that
+iron."
+
+Without, their sentry was pacing before the door; his steps
+came nearer, passed, and receded; turned, came nigh again, and
+again passed on.  As once more they grew faint, Crispin seized
+the bar and renewed his attempt.  This time it was easier. 
+Gradually it ceded to the strain Galliard set upon it.
+
+Nearer came the sentry's footsteps, but they went unheeded by
+him who toiled, and by him who watched with bated breath and
+beating heart.  He felt it giving - giving - giving.  Crack!
+
+With a report that rang through the room like a pistol shot, it
+broke off in its socket.  Both men caught their breath, , and
+stood for a second crouching, with straining ears.  The sentry
+had stopped at their door.
+
+Galliard was a man of quick action, swift to think, and as
+swift to execute the thought.  To thrust Kenneth into a corner,
+to extinguish the light, and to fling himself upon the bed was
+all the work of an instant.
+
+The key grated in the lock, and Crispin answered it with a
+resounding snore.  The door opened, and on the threshold stood
+the Roundhead trooper, holding aloft a lanthorn whose rays were
+flashed back by his polished cuirass.  He beheld Crispin on the
+bed with closed eyes and open mouth, and he heard his
+reassuring and melodious snore.  He saw Kenneth seated
+peacefully upon the floor, with his back against the wall, and
+for a moment he was puzzled.
+
+"Heard you aught?" he asked.
+
+"Aye," answered Kenneth, in a strangled voice, "I heard
+something like a shot out there."
+
+The gesture with which he accompanied the words was fatal. 
+Instinctively he had jerked his thumb towards the window,
+thereby drawing the soldier's eyes in that direction.  The
+fellow's glance fell upon the twisted bar, and a sharp
+exclamation of surprise escaped him.
+
+Had he been aught but a fool he must have guessed at once how
+it came so, and having guessed it, he must have thought twice
+ere he ventured within reach of a man who could so handle iron. 
+But he was a slow-reasoning clod, and so far, thought had not
+yet taken the place of surprise.  He stepped into, the chamber
+and across to the window, that he might more closely view that
+broken bar.
+
+With eyes that were full of terror and despair, Kenneth watched
+him; their last hope had failed them.  Then, as he looked, it
+seemed to him that in one great leap from his recumbent
+position on the bed, Crispin had fallen upon the soldier.
+
+The lanthorn was dashed from the fellow's hand, and rolled to
+Kenneth's feet.  The fellow had begun' a cry, which broke off
+suddenly into a gurgle as Galliard's fingers closed about his
+windpipe.  He was a big fellow, and in his mad struggles he
+carried: Crispin hither and thither about the room.  Together:
+they hurtled against the table, which would have: gone crashing
+over had not Kenneth caught it and drawn it softly to the wall.
+
+Both men were now upon the bed.  Crispin had guessed the
+soldier's intent to fling himself upon the ground so that the
+ring of his armour might be heard, and perchance bring others
+to his aid.  To avoid this, Galliard had swung him towards the
+bed, and hurled him on to it.  There he pinned him with his
+knee, and with his fingers he gripped the Roundhead's throat,
+pressing the apple inwards with his thumb.
+
+"The door, Kenneth!" he commanded, in a whisper.  "Close the
+door!"
+
+Vain were the trooper's struggles to free himself from that. 
+throttling grip.  Already his efforts grew his face was purple;
+his veins stood out in ropes upon his  brow till they seemed
+upon the point of bursting; his eyes protruded like a lobster's
+and there was a horrible grin upon his mouth; still his heels
+beat the bed, and still he struggled.  With his fingers he
+plucked madly at the throttling hands on his neck, and tore at
+them with his nails until the blood streamed from them.  Still
+Galliard held him firmly, and with a smile - a diabolical smile
+it seemed to the poor, half-strangled wretch - he gazed upon
+his choking victim.
+
+"Someone comes!" gasped Kenneth suddenly.  "Someone comes, Sir
+Crispin!" he repeated, shaking his hands in a frenzy.
+
+Galliard listened.  Steps were approaching.  The soldier heard
+them also, and renewed his efforts.  Then Crispin spoke.
+
+"Why stand you there like a fool?" he growled.  "Quench the
+light - stay, we may want it!  Cast your cloak over it!  Quick,
+man, quick!"
+
+The steps came nearer.  The lad had obeyed him, and they were
+in darkness.
+
+"Stand by the door," whispered Crispin.  "Fall upon him as he
+enters, and see that no cry escapes him.  Take him by the
+throat, and as you love your life, do not let him get away."
+
+The footsteps halted.  Kenneth crawled softly to his post.  The
+soldier's struggles grew of a sudden still, and Crispin
+released his throat at last.  Then calmly drawing the fellow's
+dagger, he felt for the straps of his cuirass, and these he
+proceeded to cut.  As he did so the door was opened.
+
+By the light of the lamp burning in the passage they beheld
+silhouetted upon the threshold a black figure crowned by a
+steeple hat.  Then the droning voice of the Puritan minister
+greeted them.
+
+"Your hour is at hand!" he announced.
+
+"Is it time?" asked Galliard from the bed.  And as he put the
+question he softly thrust aside the trooper's breastplate, and
+set his hand to the fellow's heart.  It still beat faintly.
+
+"In another hour they will come for you," answered the
+minister.  And Crispin marvelled anxiously what Kenneth was
+about.  "Repent then, miserable sinners, whilst yet - "
+
+He broke off abruptly, awaking out of his religious zeal to a
+sense of strangeness at the darkness and the absence of the
+sentry, which hitherto he had not remarked.
+
+"What hath - " he began.  Then Galliard heard a gasp, followed
+by the noise of a fall, and two struggling men came rolling
+across the chamber floor.
+
+"Bravely done, boy!" he cried, almost mirthfully.  "Cling to
+him, Kenneth; cling to him a second yet!"
+
+He leapt from the bed, and guided by the faint light coming
+through the door, he sprang across the intervening space and
+softly closed it.  Then he groped his way along the wall to the
+spot where he had seen the lanthorn stand when Kenneth had
+flung his cloak over it.  As he went, the two striving men came
+up against him.
+
+"Hold fast, lad," he cried, encouraging Kenneth, "hold him yet
+a moment, and I will relieve you!"
+
+He reached the lanthorn at last, and pulling aside the cloak,
+he lifted the light and set it upon the table.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX
+
+THE BARGAIN
+
+
+By the lanthorn's yellow glare Crispin beheld the two men-a
+mass of writhing bodies and a bunch of waving legs - upon the
+ground.  Kenneth, who was uppermost, clung purposefully to the
+parson's throat.  The faces of both were alike distorted, but
+whilst the lad's breath came in gasping hisses, the other's
+came not at all.
+
+Going over to the bed, Crispin drew the unconscious trooper's
+tuck-sword.  He paused for a moment to bend over the man's
+face; his breath came faintly, and Crispin knew that ere many
+moments were sped he would regain consciousness.  He smiled
+grimly to see how well he had performed his work of suffocation
+without yet utterly destroying life.
+
+Sword in hand, he returned to Kenneth and the parson.  The
+Puritan's struggles were already becoming mere spasmodic
+twitchings; his face was as ghastly as the trooper's had been a
+while ago.
+
+"Release him, Kenneth," said Crispin shortly.
+
+"He struggles still."
+
+"Release him, I say," Galliard repeated, and stooping he caught
+the lad's wrist and compelled him to abandon his hold.
+
+"He will cry out," exclaimed Kenneth, in apprehension.
+
+"Not he," laughed Crispin.  "Leastways, not yet awhile. 
+Observe the wretch."
+
+With mouth wide agape, the minister lay gasping like a fish
+newly taken from the water.  Even now that his throat was free
+he appeared to struggle for a moment before he could draw
+breath.  Then he took it in panting gulps until it seemed that
+he must choke in his gluttony of air.
+
+"Fore George," quoth Crispin, "I was no more than in time. 
+Another second, and we should have had him, too, unconscious. 
+There, he is recovering."
+
+The blood was receding from the swollen veins of the parson's
+head, and his cheeks were paling to their normal hue.  Anon
+they went yet paler than their wont, as Galliard rested the
+point of his sword against the fellow's neck.
+
+"Make sound or movement," said Crispin coldly, "and I'll pin
+you to the floor like a beetle.  Obey me, and no harm shall
+come to you."
+
+"I will obey you," the fellow answered, in a wheezing whisper. 
+"I swear I will.  But of your charity, good sir, I beseech you
+remove your sword.  Your hand might slip, sir," he whined, a
+wild terror in his eyes.
+
+Where now was the deep bass of his whilom accents?  Where now
+the grotesque majesty of his bearing, and the impressive
+gestures that erstwhile had accompanied his words of
+denunciation?
+
+"Your hand might slip, sir," he whined again.
+
+"It might - and, by Gad, it shall if I hear more from you.  So
+that you are discreet and obedient, have no fear of my hand." 
+Then, still keeping his eye upon the fellow: "Kenneth," he
+said, "attend to the crop-ear yonder, he will be recovering. 
+Truss him with the bedclothes, and gag him with his scarf.  See
+to it, Kenneth, and do it well, but leave his nostrils free
+that he may breathe."
+
+Kenneth carried out Galliard's orders swiftly and effectively,
+what time Crispin remained standing over the recumbent
+minister.  At length, when Kenneth announced that it was done,
+he bade the Puritan rise.
+
+"But have a care," he added, "or you shall taste the joys of
+the Paradise you preach of.  Come, sir parson; afoot!"
+
+A prey to a fear that compelled unquestioning obedience, the
+fellow rose with alacrity.
+
+"Stand there, sir.  So," commanded Crispin, his point within an
+inch of the man's Geneva bands.  "Take your kerchief, Kenneth,
+and pinion his wrists behind him."
+
+That done, Crispin bade the lad unbuckle and remove the
+parson's belt.  Next he ordered that man of texts to be seated
+upon their only chair, and with that same belt he commanded
+Kenneth to strap him to it.  When at length the Puritan was
+safely bound, Crispin lowered his rapier, and seated himself
+upon the table edge beside him.
+
+"Now, sir parson," quoth he, "let us talk a while.  At your
+first outcry I shall hurry you into that future world whither
+it is your mission to guide the souls of others.  Maybe you'll
+find it a better world to preach of than to inhabit, and so,
+for your own sake, I make no doubt you will obey me.  To your
+honour, to your good sense and a parson's natural horror of a
+lie, I look for truth in answer to what questions I may set
+you.  Should I find you deceiving me, sir, I shall see that
+your falsehood overtakes you."  And eloquently raising his
+blade, he intimated the exact course he would adopt.  "Now,
+sir, attend to me.  How soon are our friends likely to discover
+this topsy-turvydom?"
+
+"When they come for you," answered the parson meekly.
+
+"And how soon, O prophet, will they come?"
+
+"In an hour's time, or thereabout," replied the Puritan,
+glancing towards the window as he spoke.  Galliard followed his
+glance, and observed that the light was growing perceptibly
+stronger.
+
+"Aye," he commented, "in an hour's time there should be light
+enough to hang us by.  Is there no chance of anyone coming
+sooner?"
+
+"None that I can imagine.  The only other occupants of the
+house are a party of half a dozen troopers in the guardroom
+below."
+
+"Where is the Lord General?"
+
+"Away - I know not where.  But he will be here at sunrise."
+
+"And the sentry that was at our door - is he not to a changed
+'twixt this and hanging-time?"
+
+"I cannot say for sure, but I think not.  The guard was
+relieved just before I came."
+
+"And the men in the guardroom - answer me truthfully, O Elijah
+- what manner of watch are they keeping?"
+
+"Alas, sir, they have drunk enough this night to put a
+rakehelly Cavalier to shame.  I was but exhorting them."
+
+When Kenneth had removed the Puritan's girdle, a small Bible -
+such as men of his calling were wont to carry - had dropped
+out.  This Kenneth had placed upon the table.  Galliard now
+took it up, and, holding it before the Puritan's eyes, he
+watched him narrowly the while.
+
+"Will you swear by this book that you have answered nothing but
+the truth?"
+
+Without a moment's hesitation the parson pledged his oath,
+that, to the best of his belief, he had answered accurately.
+
+"That is well, sir.  And now, though it grieve me to cause you
+some slight discomfort, I must ensure your silence, my friend."
+
+And, placing his sword upon the table, he passed behind the
+Puritan, and taking the man's own scarf, he effectively gagged
+him with it.
+
+"Now, Kenneth," said he, turning to the lad.  Then he stopped
+abruptly as if smitten by a sudden thought.  Presently -
+"Kenneth," he continued in a different tone, "a while ago I
+mind me you said that were your liberty restored you, you would
+join hands with me in punishing the evildoers who wrecked my
+life."
+
+"I did, Sir Crispin."
+
+For a moment the knight paused.  It was a vile thing that he
+was about to do, he told himself, and as he realized how vile,
+his impulse was to say no more; to abandon the suddenly formed
+project and to trust to his own unaided wits and hands.  But as
+again he thought of the vast use this lad would be to him -
+this lad who was the betrothed of Cynthia Ashburn - he saw that
+the matter was not one hastily to be judged and dismissed. 
+Carefully he weighed it in the balance of his mind.  On the one
+hand was the knowledge that did they succeed in making good
+their escape, Kenneth would naturally fly for shelter to his
+friends the Ashburns - the usurpers of Castle Marleigh.  What
+then more natural than his taking with him the man who had
+helped him to escape, and who shared his own danger of
+recapture?  And with so plausible a motive for admission to
+Castle Marleigh, how easy would not his vengeance become?  He
+might at first wean himself into their good graces, and
+afterwards -
+
+Before his mental eyes there unfolded itself the vista of a
+great revenge; one that should be worthy of him, and
+commensurate with the foul deed that called for it.
+
+In the other scale the treacherous flavour of this method
+weighed heavily.  He proposed to bind the lad to a promise, the
+shape of whose fulfilment he would withhold - a promise the lad
+would readily give, and yet, one that he must sooner die than
+enter into, did he but know what manner of fulfilment would be
+exacted.  It amounted to betraying the lad into a betrayal of
+his friends - the people of his future wife.  Whatever the
+issue for Crispin, 'twas odds Kenneth's prospect of wedding
+this Cynthia would be blighted for all time by the action into
+which Galliard proposed to thrust him all unconscious.
+
+So stood the case in Galliard's mind, and the scales fell now
+on one side, now on the other.  But against his scruples rose
+the memory of the treatment which the lad had meted out to him
+that night; the harshness of the boy's judgment; the
+irrevocable contempt wherein he had clearly seen that he was
+held by this fatuous milksop.  All this aroused his rancour
+now, and steeled his heart against the voice of honour.  What
+was this boy to him, he asked himself, that he should forego
+for him the accomplishing of his designs?  How had this lad
+earned any consideration from him?  What did he owe him? 
+Naught!  Still, he would not decide in haste.
+
+It was characteristic of the man whom Kenneth held to be
+destitute of all honourable principles, to stand thus in the
+midst of perils, when every second that sped lessened their
+chances of escape, turning over in his mind calmly and
+collectedly a point of conduct.  It was in his passions only
+that Crispin was ungovernable, in violence only that he was
+swift - in all things else was he deliberate.
+
+Of this Kenneth had now a proof that set him quaking with
+impatient fear.  Anxiously, his hands clenched and his face
+pale, he watched his companion, who stood with brows knit in
+thought, and his grey eyes staring at the ground.  At length he
+could brook that, to him, incomprehensible and mad delay no
+longer.
+
+"Sir Crispin," he whispered, plucking at his sleeve; "Sir
+Crispin."
+
+The knight flashed him a glance that was almost of anger.  Then
+the fire died out of his eyes; he sighed and spoke.  In that
+second's glance he had seen the lad's face; the fear and
+impatience written on it had disgusted him, and caused the
+scales to fall suddenly and definitely against the boy.
+
+"I was thinking how it might be accomplished," he said.
+
+"There is but one way," cried the lad.
+
+"On the contrary, there are two, and I wish to choose
+carefully."
+
+"If you delay your choice much longer, none will be left you,"
+cried Kenneth impatiently.
+
+Noting the lad's growing fears, and resolved now upon his
+course, Galliard set himself to play upon them until terror
+should render the boy as wax in his hands.
+
+"There speaks your callow inexperience," said he, with a
+pitying smile.  "When you shall have lived as long as I have
+done, and endured as much; when you shall have set your wits to
+the saving of your life as often as have I - you will have
+learnt that haste is fatal to all enterprises.  Failure means
+the forfeiture of something; tonight it would mean the
+forfeiture of our lives, and it were a pity to let such good
+efforts as these" - and with a wave of the hand he indicated
+their two captors - "go wasted."
+
+"Sir," exclaimed Kenneth, well-nigh beside himself, "if you
+come not with me, I go alone!"
+
+"Whither?" asked Crispin dryly.
+
+"Out of this."
+
+Galliard bowed slightly.
+
+"Fare you well, sir.  I'll not detain you.  Your way is clear,
+and it is for you to choose between the door and the window."
+
+And with that Crispin turned his back upon his companion and
+crossed to the bed, where the trooper lay glaring in mute
+anger.  He stooped, and unbuckling the soldier's swordbelt - to
+which the scabbard was attached - he girt himself with it. 
+Without raising his eyes, and keeping his back to Kenneth, who
+stood between him and the door, he went next to the table, and,
+taking up the sword that he had left there, he restored it to
+the sheath.  As the hilt clicked against the mouth of the
+scabbard:
+
+"Come, Sir Crispin!" cried the lad.  "Are you ready?"
+
+Galliard wheeled sharply round.
+
+"How?  Not gone yet?" said he sardonically.
+
+"I dare not," the lad confessed.  "I dare not go alone."
+
+Galliard laughed softly; then suddenly waxed grave.
+
+"Ere we go, Master Kenneth, I would again remind you of your
+assurance that were we to regain our liberty you would aid me
+in the task of vengeance that lies before me."
+
+"Once already have I answered you that it is so."
+
+"And pray, are you still of the same mind?"
+
+"I am, I am!  Anything, Sir Crispin; anything so that you come
+away!"
+
+"Not so fast, Kenneth.  The promise that I shall ask of you is
+not to be so lightly given.  If we escape I may fairly claim to
+have saved your life, 'twixt what I have done and what I may
+yet do.  Is it not so?"
+
+"Oh, I acknowledge it!"
+
+"Then, sir, in payment I shall expect your aid hereafter to
+help me in that which I must accomplish, that which the hope of
+accomplishing is the only spur to my own escape."
+
+"You have my promise!" cried the lad.
+
+"Do not give it lightly, Kenneth," said Crispin gravely.  "It
+may cause you much discomfort, and may be fraught with danger
+even to your life."
+
+"I promise."
+
+Galliard bowed his head; then, turning, he took the Bible from
+the table.
+
+"With your hand upon this book, by your honour, your faith, and
+your every hope of salvation, swear that if I bear you alive
+out of this house you will devote yourself to me and to my task
+of vengeance until it shall be accomplished or until I perish;
+swear that you will set aside all personal matters and
+inclinations of your own, to serve me when I shall call upon
+you.  Swear that, and, in return, I will give my life if need
+be to save yours to-night, in which case you will be released
+from your oath without more ado."
+
+The lad paused a moment.  Crispin was so impressive, the oath
+he imposed so solemn, that for an instant the boy hesitated. 
+His cautious, timid nature whispered to him that perchance he
+should know more of this matter ere he bound himself so
+irrevocably.  But Crispin, noting the hesitation, stifled it by
+appealing to the lad's fears.
+
+"Resolve yourself," he exclaimed abruptly.  "It grows light,
+and the time for haste is come."
+
+"I swear!" answered Kenneth, overcome by his impatience.  "I
+swear, by my honour, my faith, and my every hope of heaven to
+lend you my aid, when and how you may demand it, until your
+task be accomplished."
+
+Crispin took the Bible from the boy's hands, and replaced it on
+the table.  His lips were pressed tight, and he avoided the
+lad's eyes.
+
+"You shall not find me wanting in my part of the bargain," he
+muttered, as he took up the soldier's cloak and hat.  "Come,
+take that parson's steeple hat and his cloak, and let us be
+going."
+
+He crossed to the door, and opening it he peered down the
+passage.  A moment he stood listening.  All was still.  Then he
+turned again.  In the chamber the steely light of the breaking
+day was rendering more yellow still the lanthorn's yellow
+flame.
+
+"Fare you well, sir parson," he said.  "Forgive me the
+discomfort I have been forced to put upon you, and pray for the
+success of our escape.  Commend me to Oliver of the ruby nose. 
+Fare you well, sir.  Come, Kenneth."
+
+He held the door for the lad to pass out.  As they stood in the
+dimly lighted passage he closed it softly after them, and
+turned the key in the lock.
+
+"Come," he said again, and led the way to the stairs, Kenneth
+tiptoeing after him with wildly beating heart.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X
+
+THE ESCAPE
+
+
+Treading softly, and with ears straining for the slightest
+sound, the two men descended to the first floor of the house. 
+They heard nothing to alarm them as they crept down, and not
+until they paused on the first landing to reconnoitre did they
+even catch the murmur of voices issuing from the guardroom
+below.  So muffled was the sound that Crispin guessed how
+matters stood even before he had looked over the balusters into
+the hall beneath.  The faint grey of the dawn was the only
+light that penetrated the gloom of that pit.
+
+"The Fates are kind, Kenneth," he whispered.  "Those fools sit
+with closed doors.  Come."
+
+But Kenneth laid his hand upon Galliard's sleeve.  "What if the
+door should open as we pass?"
+
+"Someone will die," muttered Crispin back.  "But pray God that
+it may not.  We must run the risk."
+
+"Is there no other way?"
+
+"Why, yes," returned Galliard sardonically, "we can linger here
+until we are taken.  But, oddslife, I'm not so minded.  Come."
+
+And as he spoke he drew the lad along.
+
+His foot was upon the topmost stair of the flight, when of a
+sudden the stillness of the house was broken by a loud knock
+upon the street door.  Instantly - as though they had been
+awaiting it there was a stir of feet below and the bang of an
+overturned chair; then a shaft of yellow light fell athwart the
+darkness of the hall as the guardroom door was opened.
+
+"Back!" growled Galliard.  "Back, man!"
+
+They were but in time.  Peering over the balusters they saw two
+troopers pass out of the guardroom, and cross the hall to the
+door.  A bolt was drawn and a chain rattled, then followed the
+creak of hinges, and on the stone flags rang the footsteps and
+the jingling of spurs of those that entered.
+
+"Is all well?" came a voice, which Crispin recognized as
+Colonel Pride's, followed by an affirmative reply from one of
+the soldiers.
+
+"Hath a minister visited the malignants?"
+
+"Master Toneleigh is with them even now."
+
+In the hall Crispin could now make out the figures of Colonel
+Pride and of three men who came with him.  But he had scant
+leisure to survey them, for the colonel was in haste.
+
+"Come, sirs," he heard him say, "light me to their garret.  I
+would see them - leastways, one of them, before he dies.  They
+are to hang where the Moabites hanged Gives yesterday.  Had I
+my way ...  But, there lead on, fellow."
+
+"Oh, God!" gasped Kenneth, as the soldier set foot upon the
+stairs.  Under his breath Crispin swore a terrific oath.  For
+an instant it seemed to him there was naught left but to stand
+there and await recapture.  Through his mind it flashed that
+they were five, and he but one; for his companion was unarmed.
+
+With that swiftness which thought alone can compass did he
+weigh the odds, and judge his chances.  He realized how
+desperate they were did he remain, and even as he thought he
+glanced sharply round.
+
+Dim indeed was the light, but his sight was keen, and quickened
+by the imminence of danger.  Partly his eyes and partly his
+instinct told him that not six paces behind him there must be a
+door, and if Heaven pleased it should be unlocked, behind it
+they must look for shelter.  It even crossed his mind in that
+second of crowding, galloping thought, that perchance the room
+might be occupied.  That was a risk he must take - the lesser
+risk of the two, the choice of one of which was forced upon
+him.  He had determined all this ere the soldier's foot was
+upon the third step of the staircase, and before the colonel
+had commenced the ascent.  Kenneth stood palsied with fear,
+gazing like one fascinated at the approaching peril.
+
+Then upon his ear fell the fierce whisper: "Come with me, and
+tread lightly as you love your life."
+
+In three long strides, and by steps that were softer than a
+cat's, Crispin crossed to the door which he had rather guessed
+than seen.  He ran his hand along until he caught the latch. 
+Softly he tried it; it gave, and the door opened.  Kenneth was
+by then beside him.  He paused to look back.
+
+On the opposite wall the light of the trooper's lanthorn fell
+brightly.  Another moment and the fellow would have reached and
+turned the corner of the stairs, and his light must reveal them
+to him.  But ere that instant was passed Crispin had drawn his
+companion through, and closed the door as softly as he had
+opened it.  The chamber was untenanted and almost bare of
+furniture, at which discovery Crispin breathed more freely.
+
+They stood there, and heard the ascending footsteps, and the
+clank-clank of a sword against the stair-rail.  A bar of yellow
+light came under the door that sheltered them.  Stronger it
+grew and farther it crept along the floor; then stopped and
+receded again, as he who bore the lanthorn turned and began to
+climb to the second floor.  An instant later and the light had
+vanished, eclipsed by those who followed in the fellow's wake.
+
+"The window, Sir Crispin," cried Kenneth, in an excited whisper
+- "the window!"
+
+"No," answered Crispin calmly.  "The drop is a long one, and we
+should but light in the streets, and be little better than we
+are here.  Wait."
+
+He listened.  The footsteps had turned the corner leading to
+the floor above.  He opened the door, partly at first, then
+wide.  For an instant he stood listening again.  The steps were
+well overhead by now; soon they would mount the last flight,
+and then discovery must be swift to follow.
+
+"Now," was all Crispin said, and, drawing his sword he led the
+way swiftly, yet cautiously, to the stairs once more.  In
+passing he glanced over the rails.  The guardroom door stood
+ajar, and he caught the murmurs of subdued conversation.  But
+he did not pause.  Had the door stood wide he would not have
+paused then.  There was not a second to be lost; to wait was to
+increase the already overwhelming danger.  Cautiously, and
+leaning well upon the stout baluster, he began the descent. 
+Kenneth followed him mechanically, with white face and a
+feeling of suffocation in his throat.
+
+They gained the corner, and turning, they began what was truly
+the perilous part of their journey.  Not more than a dozen
+steps were there; but at the bottom stood the guardroom door,
+and through the chink of its opening a shaft of light fell upon
+the nethermost step.  Once a stair creaked, and to their
+quickened senses it sounded like a pistol-shot.  As loud to
+Crispin sounded the indrawn breath of apprehension from Kenneth
+that followed it.  He had almost paused to curse the lad when,
+thinking him of how time pressed, he went on.
+
+Within three steps of the bottom were they, and they could
+almost distinguish what was being said in the room, when
+Crispin stopped, and turning his head to attract Kenneth's
+attention, he pointed straight across the hall to a dimly
+visible door.  It was that of the chamber wherein he had been
+brought before Cromwell.  Its position had occurred to him some
+moments before, and he had determined then upon going that way.
+
+The lad followed the indication of his finger, and signified by
+a nod that he understood.  Another step Galliard descended;
+then from the guardroom came a loud yawn, to send the boy
+cowering against the wall.  It was followed by the sound of
+someone rising; a chair grated upon the floor, and there was a
+movement of feet within the chamber.  Had Kenneth been alone,
+of a certainty terror would have frozen him to the wall.
+
+But the calm, unmovable Crispin proceeded as if naught had
+chanced; he argued that even if he who had risen were coming
+towards the door, there was nothing to be gained by standing
+still.  Their only chance lay now in passing before it might be
+opened.
+
+They that walk through perils in a brave man's company cannot
+but gain confidence from the calm of his demeanour.  So was it
+now with Kenneth.  The steady onward march of that tall, lank
+figure before him drew him irresistibly after it despite his
+tremors.  And well it was for him that this was so.  They
+gained the bottom of the staircase at length; they stood beside
+the door of the guardroom, they passed it in safety.  Then
+slowly - painfully slowly - to avoid their steps from ringing
+upon the stone floor, they crept across towards the door that
+meant safety to Sir Crispin.  Slowly, step by step, they moved,
+and with every stride Crispin looked behind him, prepared to
+rush the moment he had sign they were discovered.  But it was
+not needed.  In silence and in safety they were permitted to
+reach the door.  To Crispin's joy it was unfastened.  Quietly
+he opened it, then with calm gallantry he motioned to his
+companion to go first, holding it for him as he passed in, and
+keeping watch with eye and ear the while.
+
+Scarce had Kenneth entered the chamber when from above came the
+sound of loud and excited voices, announcing to them that their
+flight was at last discovered.  It was responded to by a rush
+of feet in the guardroom, and Crispin had but time to dart in
+after his companion and close the door ere the troopers poured
+out into the hall and up the stairs, with confused shouts that
+something must be amiss.
+
+Within the room that sheltered him Crispin chuckled, as he ran
+his hand along the edge of the door until he found the bolt,
+and softly shot it home.
+
+"'Slife," he muttered, "'twas a close thing!  Aye, shout, you
+cuckolds," he went on.  "Yell yourselves hoarse as the crows
+you are!  You'll hang us where Gives are hanged, will you?"
+
+Kenneth tugged at the skirts of his doublet.  "What now?" he
+inquired.
+
+"Now," said Crispin, "we'll leave by the window, if it please
+you."
+
+They crossed the room, and a moment or two later they had
+dropped on to the narrow railed pathway overlooking the river,
+which Crispin had observed from their prison window the evening
+before.  He had observed, too, that a small boat was moored at
+some steps about a hundred yards farther down the stream, and
+towards that spot he now sped along the footpath, followed
+closely by Kenneth.  The path sloped in that direction, so that
+by the time the spot was reached the water flowed not more than
+six feet or so beneath them.  Half a dozen steps took them down
+this to the moorings of that boat, which fortunately had not
+been removed.
+
+"Get in, Kenneth," Crispin commanded.  "There, I'll take the
+oars, and I'll keep under shelter of the bank lest those
+blunderers should bethink them of looking out of our prison
+window.  Oddswounds, Kenneth, I am hungry as a wolf, and as dry
+- ough, as dry as Dives when he begged for a sup of water. 
+Heaven send we come upon some good malignant homestead ere we
+go far, where a Christian may find a meal and a stoup of ale. 
+'Tis a miracle I had strength enough to crawl downstairs. 
+Swounds, but an empty stomach is a craven comrade in a
+desperate enterprise.  Hey!  Have a care, boy.  Now, sink me if
+this milksop hasn't fainted!"
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI
+
+THE ASHBURNS
+
+
+Gregory Ashburn pushed back his chair and made shift to rise
+from the table at which he and his brother had but dined.
+
+He was a tall, heavily built man, with a coarse, florid
+countenance set in a frame of reddish hair that hung straight
+and limp.  In the colour of their hair lay the only point of
+resemblance between the brothers.  For the rest Joseph was
+spare and of middle weight, pale of face, thin-lipped, and
+owning a cunning expression that was rendered very evil by
+virtue of the slight cast in his colourless eyes.
+
+In earlier life Gregory had not been unhandsome; debauchery and
+sloth had puffed and coarsened him.  Joseph, on the other hand,
+had never been aught but ill-favoured.
+
+"Tis a week since Worcester field was fought," grumbled
+Gregory, looking lazily sideways at the mullioned windows as he
+spoke, "and never a word from the lad."
+
+Joseph shrugged his narrow shoulders and sneered.  It was
+Joseph's habit to sneer when he spoke, and his words were wont
+to fit the sneer.
+
+"Doth the lack of news trouble you?" he asked, glancing across
+the table at his brother.
+
+Gregory rose without meeting that glance.
+
+"Truth to tell it does trouble me," he muttered.
+
+"And yet," quoth Joseph, "tis a natural thing enough.  When
+battles are fought it is not uncommon for men to die."
+
+Gregory crossed slowly to the window, and stared out at the
+trees of the park which autumn was fast stripping.
+
+"If he were among the fallen - if he were dead then indeed the
+matter would be at an end."
+
+"Aye, and well ended."
+
+"You forget Cynthia," Gregory reproved him.
+
+"Forget her?  Not I, man.  Listen."  And he jerked his thumb in
+the direction of the wainscot.
+
+To the two men in that rich chamber of Castle Marleigh was
+borne the sound - softened by distance of a girlish voice
+merrily singing.
+
+Joseph laughed a cackle of contempt.
+
+"Is that the song of a maid whose lover comes not back from the
+wars?" he asked.
+
+"But bethink you, Joseph, the child suspects not the
+possibility of his having fallen."
+
+"Gadswounds, sir, did your daughter give the fellow a thought
+she must be anxious.  A week yesterday since the battle, and no
+word from him.  I dare swear, Gregory, there's little in that
+to warrant his mistress singing."
+
+"Cynthia is young - a child.  She reasons not as you and I, nor
+seeks to account for his absence."
+
+"Troubles not to account for it," Joseph amended.
+
+"Be that as it may," returned Gregory irritably, "I would I
+knew."
+
+"That which we do not know we may sometimes infer.  I infer him
+to be dead, and there's the end of it."
+
+"What if he should not be?"
+
+"Then, my good fool, he would be here."
+
+"It is unlike you, Joseph, to argue so loosely.  What if he
+should be a prisoner?"
+
+"Why, then, the plantations will do that which the battle hath
+left undone.  So that, dead or captive, you see it is all one."
+
+And, lifting his glass to the light, he closed one eye, the
+better to survey with the other the rich colour of the wine. 
+Not that Joseph was curious touching that colour, but he was a
+juggler in gestures, and at that moment he could think of no
+other whereby he might so naturally convey the utter
+indifference of his feelings in the matter.
+
+"Joseph, you are wrong," said Gregory, turning his back upon
+the window and facing his brother.  "It is not all one.  What
+if he return some day?"
+
+"Oh, what if - what if - what if!" cried Joseph testily. 
+"Gregory, what a casuist you might have been had not nature
+made you a villain! You are as full of "what if s" as an egg of
+meat.  Well what if some day he should return?  I fling your
+question back - what if?"
+
+"God only knows."
+
+"Then leave it to Him," was the flippant answer; and Joseph
+drained his glass.
+
+"Nay, brother, 'twere too great a risk.  I must and I will know
+whether Kenneth were slain or not.  If he is a prisoner, then
+we must exert ourselves to win his freedom."
+
+"Plague take it," Joseph burst out.  "Why all this ado?  Why
+did you ever loose that graceless whelp from his Scottish
+moor?"
+
+Gregory sighed with an air of resigned patience.
+
+"I have more reasons than one," he answered slowly.  "If you
+need that I recite them to you, I pity your wits.  Look you,
+Joseph, you have more influence with Cromwell; more - far more
+- than have I, and if you are minded to do so, you can serve me
+in this."
+
+"I wait but to learn how."
+
+"Then go to Cromwell, at Windsor or wherever he may be, and
+seek to learn from him if Kenneth is a prisoner.  If he is not,
+then clearly he is dead."
+
+Joseph made a gesture of impatience.
+
+"Can you not leave Fate alone?"
+
+"Think you I have no conscience, Joseph?" cried the other with
+sudden vigour.
+
+"Pish! you are womanish."
+
+"Nay, Joseph, I am old.  I am in the autumn of my days, and I
+would see these two wed before I die."
+
+"And are damned for a croaking, maudlin' craven," added Joseph. 
+"Pah!  You make me sick."
+
+There was a moment's silence, during which the brothers eyed
+each other, Gregory with a sternness before which Joseph's
+mocking eye was forced at length to fall.
+
+"Joseph, you shall go to the Lord General."
+
+"Well," said Joseph weakly, "we will say that I go.  But if
+Kenneth be a prisoner, what then?"
+
+"You must beg his liberty from Cromwell.  He will not refuse
+you."
+
+"Will he not?  I am none so confident."
+
+"But you can make the attempt, and leastways we shall have some
+definite knowledge of what has befallen the boy."
+
+"The which definite knowledge seems to me none so necessary. 
+Moreover, Gregory, bethink you; there has been a change, and
+the wind carries an edge that will arouse every devil of
+rheumatism in my bones.  I am not a lad, Gregory, and
+travelling at this season is no small matter for a man of
+fifty."
+
+Gregory approached the table, and leaning his hand upon it:
+
+"Will you go?" he asked, squarely eyeing his brother.
+
+Joseph fell a-pondering.  He knew Gregory to be a man of fixed
+ideas, and he bethought him that were he now to refuse he would
+be hourly plagued by Gregory's speculations touching the boy's
+fate and recriminations touching his own selfishness.  On the
+other hand, however, the journey daunted him.  He was not a man
+to sacrifice his creature comforts, and to be asked to
+sacrifice them to a mere whim, a shadow, added weight to his
+inclination to refuse the undertaking.
+
+"Since you have the matter so much at heart," said he at
+length, "does it not occur to you that you could plead with
+greater fervour, and be the likelier to succeed?"
+
+"You know that Cromwell will lend a more willing ear to you
+than to me - perchance because you know so well upon occasion
+how to weave your stock of texts into your discourse," he added
+with a sneer.  "Will you go, Joseph?"
+
+"Bethink you that we know not where he is.  I may have to
+wander for weeks o'er the face of England."
+
+"Will you go?" Gregory repeated.
+
+"Oh, a pox on it," broke out Joseph, rising suddenly.  "I'll go
+since naught else will quiet you.  I'll start to-morrow."
+
+"Joseph, I am grateful.  I shall be more grateful yet if you
+will start to-day."
+
+"No, sink me, no."
+
+"Yes, sink me, yes," returned Gregory.  "You must, Joseph."
+
+Joseph spoke of the wind again; the sky, he urged, was heavy
+with rain.  "What signifies a day?" he whined.
+
+But Gregory stood his ground until almost out of
+self-protection the other consented to do his bidding and set
+out as soon as he could make ready.
+
+This being determined, Joseph left his brother, and cursing
+Master Stewart for the amount of discomfort which he was about
+to endure on his behoof, he went to prepare for the journey.
+
+Gregory lingered still in the chamber where they had dined, and
+sat staring moodily before him at the table-linen.  Anon, with
+a half-laugh of contempt, he filled a glass of muscadine, and
+drained it.  As he set down the glass the door opened, and on
+the threshold stood a very dainty girl, whose age could not be
+more than twenty.  Gregory looked on the fresh, oval face, with
+its wealth of brown hair crowning the low, broad forehead, and
+told himself that in his daughter he had just cause for pride. 
+He looked again, and told himself that his brother was right;
+she had not the air of a maid whose lover returns not from the
+wars.  Her lips were smiling, and the eyes - low-lidded and
+blue as the heavens - were bright with mirth.
+
+"Why sit you there so glum, she cried, "whilst my uncle, they
+tell me, is going on a journey?"
+
+Gregory was minded to put her feelings to the test.
+
+"Kenneth," he replied with significant emphasis, watching her
+closely.
+
+The mirth faded from her eyes, and they took on a grave
+expression that added to their charm.  But Gregory had looked
+for fear, leastways deep concern, and in this he was
+disappointed.
+
+"What of him, father?" she asked, approaching.
+
+"Naught, and that's the rub.  It is time we had news, and as
+none comes, your uncle goes to seek it."
+
+"Think you that ill can have befallen him?"
+
+Gregory was silent a moment, weighing his answer.  Then
+
+"We hope not, sweetheart," said he.  "He may be a prisoner.  We
+last had news of him from Worcester, and 'tis a week and more
+since the battle was fought there.  Should he be a captive,
+your uncle has sufficient influence to obtain his enlargement."
+
+Cynthia sighed, and moved towards the window.
+
+"Poor Kenneth," she murmured gently.  "He may be wounded."
+
+"We shall soon learn," he answered.  His disappointment grew
+keener; where he had looked for grief he found no more than an
+expression of pitying concern.  Nor was his disappointment
+lessened when, after a spell of thoughtful silence, she began
+to comment upon the condition of the trees in the park below. 
+Gregory had it in his mind to chide her for this lack of
+interest in the fate of her intended husband, but he let the
+impulse pass unheeded.  After all, if Kenneth lived she should
+marry him.  Hitherto she had been docile and willing enough to
+be guided by him; she had even displayed a kindness for
+Kenneth; no doubt she would do so again when Joseph returned
+with him - unless he were among the Worcester slain, in which
+case, perhaps, it would prove best that his fate was not to
+cause her any prostration of grief.
+
+"The sky is heavy, father," said Cynthia from the window. 
+"Poor uncle!  He will have rough weather for his journey."
+
+"I rejoice that someone wastes pity on poor uncle," growled
+Joseph, who re-entered, "this uncle whom your father drives out
+of doors in all weathers to look for his daughter's truant
+lover."
+
+Cynthia smiled upon him.
+
+"It is heroic of you, uncle."
+
+"There, there," he grumbled, "I shall do my best to find the
+laggard, lest those pretty eyes should weep away their beauty."
+
+Gregory's glance reproved this sneer of Joseph's, whereupon
+Joseph drew close to him:
+
+"Broken-hearted, is she not?" he muttered, to which Gregory
+returned no answer.
+
+An hour later, as Joseph climbed into his saddle, he turned to
+his brother again, and directing his eyes upon the girl, who
+stood patting the glossy neck of his nag:
+
+"Come, now," said he, "you see that matters are as I said."
+
+"And yet," replied Gregory sternly, "I hope to see you return
+with the boy.  It will be better so."
+
+Joseph shrugged his shoulders contemptuously.  Then, taking
+leave of his brother and his niece, he rode out with two grooms
+at his heels, and took the road South.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII
+
+THE HOUSE THAT WAS ROLAND MARLEIGH'S
+
+
+It was high noon next day, and Gregory Ashburn was taking the
+air upon the noble terrace of Castle Marleigh, when the beat of
+hoofs, rapidly approaching up the avenue, arrested his
+attention.  He stopped in his walk, and, turning, sought to
+discover who came.  His first thought was of his brother; his
+second, of Kenneth.  Through the half-denuded trees he made out
+two mounted figures, riding side by side; and from the fact of
+there being two, he adduced that this could not be Joseph
+returning.
+
+Even as he waited he was joined by Cynthia, who took her stand
+beside him, and voiced the inquiry that was in his mind.  But
+her father could no more than answer that he hoped it might be
+Kenneth.
+
+Then the horsemen passed from behind the screen of trees and
+came into the clearing before the terrace, and unto the waiting
+glances of Ashburn and his daughter was revealed a curiously
+bedraggled and ill-assorted pair.  The one riding slightly in
+advance looked like a Puritan of the meaner sort, in his
+battered steeple-hat and cloak of rusty black.  The other was
+closely wrapped in a red mantle, uptilted behind by a sword of
+prodigious length, and for all that his broad, grey hat was
+unadorned by any feather, it was set at a rakish, ruffling,
+damn-me angle that pronounced him no likely comrade for the
+piously clad youth beside him.
+
+But beneath that brave red cloak - alack! - as was presently
+seen when they dismounted, that gentleman was in a sorry
+plight.  He wore a leather jerkin, so cut and soiled that any
+groom might have disdained it; a pair of green breeches, frayed
+to their utmost; and coarse boots of untanned leather, adorned
+by rusty spurs.
+
+On the terrace Gregory paused a moment to call his groom to
+attend the new-comers, then he passed down the steps to greet
+Kenneth with boisterous effusion.  Behind him, slow and stately
+as a woman of twice her years, came Cynthia.  Calm was her
+greeting of her lover, contained in courteous expressions of
+pleasure at beholding him safe, and suffering him to kiss her
+hand.
+
+In the background, his sable locks uncovered out of deference
+to the lady, stood Sir Crispin, his face pale and haggard, his
+lips parted, and his grey eyes burning as they fell again,
+after the lapse of years, upon the stones of this his home -
+the castle to which he was now come, hat in hand, to beg for
+shelter.
+
+Gregory was speaking, his hands resting upon Kenneth's
+shoulder.
+
+"We have been much exercised concerning you, lad," he was
+saying.  "We almost feared the worst, and yesterday Joseph left
+us to seek news of you at Cromwell's hands.  Where have you
+tarried?"
+
+"Anon, sir; you shall learn anon.  The story is a long one."
+
+"True; you will be tired, and perchance you would first rest a
+while.  Cynthia will see to it.  But what scarecrow have you
+there?  What tatterdemalion is this?" he cried, pointing to
+Galliard.  He had imagined him a servant, but the dull flush
+that overspread Sir Crispin's face told him of his error.
+
+"I would have you know, sir," Crispin began, with some heat,
+when Kenneth interrupted him.
+
+"Tis to this gentleman, sir, that I owe my presence here.  He
+was my fellow-prisoner, and but for his quick wit and stout arm
+I should be stiff by now.  Anon, sir, you shall hear the story
+of it, and I dare swear it will divert you.  This gentleman is
+Sir Crispin Galliard, lately a captain of horse with whom I
+served in Middleton's Brigade."
+
+Crispin bowed low, conscious of the keen scrutiny in which
+Gregory's eyes were bent upon him.  In his heart there arose a
+fear that, haply after all, the years that were sped had not
+wrought sufficient change in him.
+
+"Sir Crispin Galliard," Ashburn was saying, after the manner of
+one who is searching his memory.  "Galliard, Galliard - not he
+whom they called "Rakehelly Galliard," and who gave us such
+trouble in the late King's time?"
+
+Crispin breathed once more.  Ashburn's scrutiny was explained.
+
+"The same, sir," he answered, with a smile and a fresh bow. 
+"Your servant, sir; and yours, madam."
+
+Cynthia looked with interest at the lank, soldierly figure. 
+She, too, had heard - as who had not? - wild stories of this
+man's achievements.  But of no feat of his had she been told
+that could rival that of his escape from Worcester; and when,
+that same evening, Kenneth related it, as they supped, her
+low-lidded eyes grew very wide, and as they fell on Crispin,
+admiration had taken now the place of interest.
+
+Romance swayed as great a portion of her heart as it does of
+most women's.  She loved the poets and their songs of great
+deeds; and here was one who, in the light of that which they
+related of him, was like an incarnation of some hero out of a
+romancer's ballad.
+
+Kenneth she never yet had held in over high esteem; but of a
+sudden, in the presence of this harsh-featured dog of war, this
+grim, fierce-eyed ruffler, he seemed to fade, despite his
+comeliness of face and form, into a poor and puny
+insignificance.  And when, presently, he unwisely related how,
+when in the boat he had fainted, the maiden laughed outright
+for very scorn.
+
+At this plain expression of contempt, her father shot her a
+quick, uneasy glance.  Kenneth stopped short, bringing his
+narrative abruptly to a close.  Reproachfully he looked at her,
+turning first red, then white, as anger chased annoyance
+through his soul.  Galliard looked on with quiet relish; her
+laugh had contained that which for days he had carried in his
+heart.  He drained his bumper slowly, and made no attempt to
+relieve the awkward silence that sat upon the company.
+
+Truth to tell, there was emotion enough in the soul of him who
+was wont to be the life of every board he sat at to hold him
+silent and even moody.
+
+Here, after eighteen years, was he again in his ancestral home
+of Marleigh.  But how was he returned?  As one who came under a
+feigned name, to seek from usurping hands a shelter 'neath his
+own roof; a beggar of that from others which it should have
+been his to grant or to deny those others.  As an avenger he
+came.  For justice he came, and armed with retribution; the
+flame of a hate unspeakable burning in his heart, and demanding
+the lives - no less - of those that had destroyed him and his. 
+Yet was he forced to sit a mendicant almost at that board whose
+head was his by every right; forced to sit and curb his mood,
+giving no outward sign of the volcano that boiled and raged
+within his soul as his eye fell upon the florid, smiling face
+and portly, well-fed frame of Gregory Ashburn.  For the time
+was not yet.  He must wait; wait until Joseph's return, so that
+he might spend his vengeance upon both together.
+
+Patient had he been for eighteen years, confident that ere he
+died, a just and merciful God would give him this for which he
+lived and waited.  Yet now that the season was at hand; now
+upon the very eve of that for which he had so long been
+patient, a frenzy of impatience fretted him.
+
+He drank deep that night, and through deep drinking his manner
+thawed - for in his cups it was not his to be churlish to
+friend or foe.  Anon Cynthia withdrew; next Kenneth, who went
+in quest of her.  Still Crispin sat on, and drank his host's
+health above his breath, and his perdition under it, till in
+the end Gregory, who never yet had found his master at the
+bottle, grew numb and drowsy, and sat blinking at the tapers.
+
+Until midnight they remained at table, talking of this and
+that, and each understanding little of what the other said.  As
+the last hour of night boomed out through the great hall,
+Gregory spoke of bed.
+
+"Where do I lie to-night?" asked Crispin.
+
+"In the northern wing," answered Gregory with a hiccough.
+
+"Nay, sir, I protest," cried Galliard, struggling to his feet,
+and swaying somewhat as he stood.  "I'll sleep in the King's
+chamber, none other."
+
+"The King's chamber?" echoed Gregory, and his face showed the
+confused struggles of his brain.  "What know you of the King's
+chamber?"
+
+"That it faces the east and the sea, and that it is the chamber
+I love best."
+
+"What can you know of it since, I take it, you have never seen
+it!"
+
+"Have I not?" he began, in a voice that was awful in its
+threatening calm.  Then, recollecting himself, and shaking some
+of the drunkenness from him: "In the old days, when the
+Marleighs were masters here," he mumbled, "I was often within
+these walls.  Roland Marleigh was my friend.  The King's
+chamber was ever accorded me, and there, for old time's sake,
+I'll lay these old bones of mine to-night."
+
+"You were Roland Marleigh's friend?" gasped Gregory.  He was
+very white now, and there was a sheen of moisture on his face. 
+The sound of that name had well-nigh sobered him.  It was
+almost as if the ghost of Roland Marleigh stood before him. 
+His knees were loosened, and he sank back into the chair from
+which he had but risen.
+
+"Aye, I was his friend!" assented Crispin.  "Poor Roland!  He
+married your sister, did he not, and it was thus that, having
+no issue and the family being extinct, Castle Marleigh passed
+to you?"
+
+"He married our cousin," Gregory amended.  "They were an
+ill-fated family."
+
+"Ill-fated, indeed, an all accounts be true," returned Crispin
+in a maudlin voice.  "Poor Roland!  Well, for old time's sake,
+I'll sleep in the King's chamber, Master Ashburn."
+
+"You shall sleep where you list, sir," answered Gregory, and
+they rose.
+
+"Do you look to honour us long at Castle Marleigh, Sir
+Crispin?" was Gregory's last question before separating from
+his guest.
+
+"Nay, sir, 'tis likely I shall go hence to-morrow," answered
+Crispin, unmindful of what he said.
+
+"I trust not," said Gregory, in accents of relief that belied
+him.  "A friend of Roland Marleigh's must ever be welcome in
+the house that was Roland Marleigh's."
+
+"The house that was Roland Marleigh's," Crispin muttered. 
+"Heigho!  Life is precarious as the fall of a die at best an
+ephemeral business.  To-night you say the house that was Roland
+Marleigh's; presently men will be saying the house that the
+Ashburns lived - aye, and died - in.  Give you good night,
+Master Ashburn."
+
+He staggered off, and stumbled up the broad staircase at the
+head of which a servant now awaited, taper in hand, to conduct
+him to the chamber he demanded.
+
+Gregory followed him with a dull, frightened eye.  Galliard's
+halting, thickly uttered words had sounded like a prophecy in
+his ears.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII
+
+THE METAMORPHOSIS OF KENNETH
+
+
+When the morrow came, however, Sir Crispin showed no signs of
+carrying out his proposal of the night before, and departing
+from Castle Marleigh.  Nor, indeed, did he so much as touch
+upon the subject, bearing himself rather as one whose sojourn
+there was to be indefinite.
+
+Gregory offered no comment upon this; through what he had done
+for Kenneth they were under a debt to Galliard, and whilst he
+was a fugitive from the Parliament's justice it would ill
+become Gregory to hasten his departure.  Moreover, Gregory
+recalled little or nothing of the words that had passed between
+them in their cups, save a vague memory that Crispin had said
+that he had once known Roland Marleigh.
+
+Kenneth was content that Galliard should lie idle, and not call
+upon him to go forth again to lend him the aid he had pledged
+himself to render when Crispin should demand it.  He marvelled,
+as the days wore on, that Galliard should appear to have
+forgotten that task of his, and that he should make no shift to
+set about it.  For the rest, however, it troubled him but
+little; enough preoccupation did he find in Cynthia's daily
+increasing coldness.  Upon all the fine speeches that he made
+her she turned an idle ear, or if she replied at all it was but
+petulantly to interrupt them, to call him a man of great words
+and small deeds.  All that he did she found ill done, and told
+him of it.  His sober, godly garments of sombre hue afforded
+her the first weapon of scorn wherewith to wound him.  A crow,
+she dubbed him; a canting, psalm-chanting hypocrite; a
+Scripture-monger, and every other contumelious epithet of like
+import that she should call to mind.  He heard her in
+amazement.
+
+"Is it for you, Cynthia," he cried out in his surprise, "the
+child of a God-fearing house, to mock the outward symbols of my
+faith?"
+
+"A faith," she laughed, "that is all outward symbols and naught
+besides; all texts and mournings and nose-twangings."
+
+"Cynthia!" he exclaimed, in horror.
+
+"Go your ways, sir," she answered, half in jest, half in
+earnest.  "What need hath a true faith of outward symbols?  It
+is a matter that lies between your God and yourself, and it is
+your heart He will look at, not your coat.  Why, then, without
+becoming more acceptable in His eyes, shall you but render
+yourself unsightly in the eyes of man?"
+
+Kenneth's cheeks were flushed with anger.  From the terrace
+where they walked he let his glance roam towards the avenue
+that split the park in twain.  Up this at that moment, with the
+least suspicion of a swagger in his gait, Sir Crispin Galliard
+was approaching leisurely; he wore a claret-coloured doublet
+edged with silver lace, and a grey hat decked with a drooping
+red feather - which garments, together with the rest of his
+apparel, he had drawn from the wardrobe of Gregory Ashburn. 
+His advent afforded Kenneth the retort he needed.  Pointing him
+out to Cynthia:
+
+"Would you rather," he cried hotly, "have me such a man as
+that?"
+
+"And, pray, why not?" she taunted him.  "Leastways, you would
+then be a man."
+
+"If, madam, a debauchee, a drunkard, a profligate, a brawler be
+your conception of a man, I would in faith you did not account
+me one."
+
+"And what, sir, would you sooner elect to be accounted?"
+
+"A gentleman, madam," he answered pompously.
+
+"I think," said she quietly, "that you are in as little danger
+of becoming the one as the other.  A gentleman does not slander
+a man behind his back, particularly when he owes that man his
+life.  Kenneth, I am ashamed of you."
+
+"I do not slander," he insisted hotly.  "You yourself know of
+the drunken excess wherewith three nights ago he celebrated his
+coming to Castle Marleigh.  Nor do I forget what I owe him, and
+payment is to be made in a manner you little know of.  If I
+said of him what I did, it was but in answer to your taunts. 
+Think you I could endure comparison with such a man as that? 
+Know you what name the Royalists give him?  They call him the
+Tavern Knight."
+
+She looked him over with an eye of quiet scorn.
+
+"And how, sir, do they call you?  The pulpit knight?  Or is it
+the knight of the white feather?  Mr. Stewart, you weary me.  I
+would have a man who with a man's failings hath also a man's
+redeeming virtues of honesty, chivalry, and courage, and a
+record of brave deeds, rather than one who has nothing of the
+man save the coat - that outward symbol you lay such store by."
+
+His handsome, weak face was red with fury.
+
+"Since that is so, madam," he choked, "I leave you to your
+swaggering, ruffling Cavalier."
+
+And, without so much as a bow, he swung round on his heel and
+left her.  It was her turn to grow angry now, and well it was
+for him that he had not tarried.  She dwelt with scorn upon his
+parting taunt, bethinking herself that in truth she had
+exaggerated her opinions of Galliard's merits.  Her feelings
+towards that ungodly gentleman were rather of pity than aught
+else.  A brave, ready-witted man she knew him for, as much from
+the story of his escape from Worcester as for the air that
+clung to him despite his swagger, and she deplored that one
+possessing these ennobling virtues should have fallen
+notwithstanding upon such evil ways as those which Crispin
+trod.  Some day, perchance, when she should come to be better
+acquainted with him, she would seek to induce him to mend his
+course.
+
+Such root did this thought take in her mind that soon
+thereafter - and without having waited for that riper
+acquaintance which at first she had held necessary - she sought
+to lead their talk into the channels of this delicate subject. 
+But he as sedulously confined it to trivial matter whenever she
+approached him in this mood, fencing himself about with a wall
+of cold reserve that was not lightly to be overthrown.  In this
+his conscience was at work.  Cynthia was the flaw in the
+satisfaction he might have drawn from the contemplation of the
+vengeance he was there to wreak.  He beheld her so pure, so
+sweet and fresh, that he marvelled how she came to be the
+daughter of Gregory Ashburn.  His heart smote him at the
+thought of how she - the innocent - must suffer with the
+guilty, and at the contemplation of the sorrow which he must
+visit upon her.  Out of this sprang a constraint when in her
+company, for other than stiff and formal he dared not be lest
+he should deem himself no better than the Iscariot.
+
+During the first days he had pent at Marleigh, he had been
+impatient for Joseph Ashburn's return.  Now he found himself
+hoping each morning that Joseph might not come that day.
+
+A courier reached Gregory from Windsor with a letter wherein
+his brother told him that the Lord General, not being at the
+castle, he was gone on to London in quest of him.  And Gregory,
+lacking the means to inform him that the missing Kenneth was
+already returned, was forced to possess his soul in patience
+until his brother, having learnt what was to be learnt of
+Cromwell, should journey home.
+
+And so the days sped on, and a week wore itself out in peace at
+Castle Marleigh, none dreaming of the volcano on which they
+stood.  Each night Crispin and Gregory sat together at the
+board after Kenneth and Cynthia had withdrawn, and both drank
+deep - the one for the vice of it, the other (as he had always
+done) to seek forgetfulness.
+
+He needed it now more than ever, for he feared that the
+consideration of Cynthia might yet unman him.  Had she scorned
+and avoided him and having such evidences of his ways of life
+he marvelled that she did not - he might have allowed his
+considerations of her to weigh less heavily.  As it was, she
+sought him out, nor seemed rebuffed at his efforts to evade
+her, and in every way she manifested a kindliness that drove
+him almost to the point of despair, and well-nigh to hating
+her.
+
+Kenneth, knowing naught of the womanly purpose that actuated
+her, and seeing but the outward signs, which, with ready
+jealousy, he misconstrued and magnified, grew sullen and
+churlish to her, to Galliard, and even to Gregory.
+
+For hours he would mope alone, nursing his jealous mood, as
+though in this clownish fashion matters were to be mended.  Did
+Cynthia but speak to Crispin, he scowled; did Crispin answer
+her, he grit his teeth at the covert meaning wherewith his
+fancy invested Crispin's tones; whilst did they chance to laugh
+together - a contingency that fortunately for his sanity was
+rare - he writhed in fury.  He was a man transformed, and at
+times there was murder in his heart.  Had he been a swordsman
+of more than moderate skill and dared to pit himself against
+the Tavern Knight, blood would have been shed in Marleigh Park
+betwixt them.
+
+It seemed at last as if with his insensate jealousy all the
+evil humours that had lain dormant in the boy were brought to
+the surface, to overwhelm his erstwhile virtues - if qualities
+that have bigotry for a parent may truly be accounted virtues.
+
+He cast off, not abruptly, but piecemeal, those outward symbols
+- his sombre clothes.  First 'twas his hat he exchanged for a
+feather-trimmed beaver of more sightly hue; then those stiff
+white bands that reeked of sanctity and cant for a collar of
+fine point; next it was his coat that took on a worldly edge of
+silver lace.  And so, little by little, step by step, was the
+metamorphosis effected, until by the end of the week he came
+forth a very butterfly of fashion - a gallant, dazzling
+Cavalier.  Out of a stern, forbidding Covenanter he was
+transformed in a few days into a most outrageous fop.  He
+walked in an atmosphere of musk that he himself exhaled; his
+fair hair - that a while ago had hung so straight and limp -
+was now twisted into monstrous curls, a bunch of which were
+gathered by his right ear in a ribbon of pale blue silk.
+
+Galliard noted the change in amazement, yet, knowing to what
+follies youth is driven when it woos, he accounted Cynthia
+responsible for it, and laughed in his sardonic way, whereat
+the boy would blush and scowl in one.  Gregory, too, looked on
+and laughed, setting it down to the same cause.  Even Cynthia
+smiled, whereat the Tavern Knight was driven to ponder.
+
+With a courtier's raiment Kenneth put on, too, a courtier's
+ways; he grew mincing and affected in his speech, and he -
+whose utterance a while ago had been marked by a scriptural
+flavour - now set it off with some of Galliard's less unseemly
+oaths.
+
+Since it was a ruffling gallant Cynthia required, he swore that
+a ruffling gallant should she find him; nor had he wit enough
+to see that his ribbons, his fopperies, and his capers served
+but to make him ridiculous in her eyes.  He did indeed
+perceive, however, that in spite of this wondrous
+transformation, he made no progress in her favour.
+
+"What signify these fripperies?" she asked him, one day, "any
+more than did your coat of decent black?  Are these also
+outward symbols?"
+
+"You may take them for such, madam," he answered sulkily.  "You
+liked me not as I was - "
+
+"And I like you less as you are," she broke in.
+
+"Cynthia, you mock me," he cried angrily.
+
+"Now, Heaven forbid!  I do but mark the change," she answered
+airily.  "These scented clothes are but a masquerade, even as
+your coat of black and your cant were a masquerade.  Then you
+simulated godliness; now you simulate Heaven knows what.  But
+now, as then, it is no more than a simulation, a pretence of
+something that you are not."
+
+He left her in a pet, and went in search of Gregory, into whose
+ear he poured the story of his woes that had their source in
+Cynthia's unkindness.  From this resulted a stormy interview
+'twixt Cynthia and her father, in which Cynthia at last
+declared that she would not be wedded to a fop.
+
+Gregory shrugged his shoulders and laughed cynically, replying
+that it was the way of young men to be fools, and that through
+folly lay the road to wisdom.
+
+"Be that as it may," she answered him with spirit, "this folly
+transcends all bounds.  Master Stewart may return to his
+Scottish heather; at Castle Marleigh he is wasting time."
+
+"Cynthia!" he cried.
+
+"Father," she pleaded, "why be angry?  You would not have me
+marry against the inclinations of my heart?  You would not have
+me wedded to a man whom I despise?"
+
+"By what right do you despise him?" he demanded, his brow dark.
+
+"By the right of the freedom of my thoughts - the only freedom
+that a woman knows.  For the rest it seems she is but a
+chattel; of no more consideration to a man than his ox or his
+ass with which the Scriptures rank her - a thing to be given or
+taken, bought or sold, as others shall decree."
+
+"Child, child, what know you of these things?" he cried.  "You
+are overwrought, sweetheart."  And with the promise to wait
+until a calmer frame of mind in her should be more propitious
+to what he wished to say further on this score, he left her.
+
+She went out of doors in quest of solitude among the naked
+trees of the park; instead she found Sir Crispin, seated deep
+in thought upon a fallen trunk.
+
+Through the trees she espied him as she approached, whilst the
+rustle of her gown announced to him her coming.  He rose as she
+drew nigh, and, doffing his hat, made shift to pass on.
+
+"Sir Crispin," she called, detaining him.  He turned.
+
+"Your servant, Mistress Cynthia."
+
+"Are you afraid of me, Sir Crispin?"
+
+"Beauty, madam, is wont to inspire courage rather than fear,"
+he answered, with a smile.
+
+"That, sir, is an evasion, not an answer."
+
+"If read aright, Mistress Cynthia, it is also an answer."
+
+"That you do not fear me?"
+
+"It is not a habit of mine."
+
+"Why, then, have you avoided me these three days past?"
+
+Despite himself Crispin felt his breath quickening - quickening
+with a pleasure that he sought not to account for - at the
+thought that she should have marked his absence from her side.
+
+"Because perhaps if I did not," he answered slowly, "you might
+come to avoid me.  I am a proud man, Mistress Cynthia."
+
+"Satan, sir, was proud, but his pride led him to perdition."
+
+"So indeed may mine," he answered readily, "since it leads me
+from you."
+
+"Nay, sir," she laughed, "you go from me willingly enough."
+
+"Not willingly, Cynthia.  Oh, not willingly," he began.  Then
+of a sudden he checked his tongue, and asked himself what he
+was saying.  With a half-laugh and a courtier manner, he
+continued, "Of two evils, madam, we must choose the lesser
+one."
+
+"Madam," she echoed, disregarding all else that he had said. 
+"It is an ugly word, and but a moment back you called me
+Cynthia "
+
+"Twas a liberty that methought my grey hairs warranted, and for
+which you should have reproved me."
+
+"You have not grey hairs enough to warrant it, Sir Crispin,"
+she answered archly.  "But what if even so I account it no
+liberty?"
+
+The heavy lids were lifted from her eyes, and as their glance,
+frank and kindly, met his, he trembled.  Then, with a polite
+smile, he bowed.
+
+"I thank you for the honour."
+
+For a moment she looked at him in a puzzled way, then moved
+past him, and as he stood, stiffly erect, watching her graceful
+figure, he thought that she was about to leave him, and was
+glad of it.  But ere she had taken half a dozen steps:
+
+"Sir Crispin," said she, looking back at him over her shoulder,
+"I am walking to the cliffs."
+
+Never was a man more plainly invited to become an escort; but
+he ignored it.  A sad smile crept into his harsh face.
+
+"I shall tell Kenneth if I see him," said he.
+
+At that she frowned.
+
+"But I do not want him," she protested.  "Sooner would I go
+alone."
+
+"Why, then, madam, I'll tell nobody."
+
+Was ever man so dull?  she asked herself.
+
+"There is a fine view from the cliffs," said she.
+
+"I have always thought so," he agreed.
+
+She inclined to call him a fool; yet she restrained herself. 
+She had an impulse to go her way without him; but, then, she
+desired his company, and Cynthia was unused to having her
+desires frustrated.  So finding him impervious to suggestion:
+
+"Will you not come with me?" she asked at last, point-blank.
+
+"Why, yes, if you wish it," he answered without alacrity.
+
+"You may remain, sir."
+
+Her offended tone aroused him now to the understanding that he
+was impolite.  Contrite he stood beside her in a moment.
+
+"With your permission, mistress, I will go with you.  I am a
+dull fellow, and to-day I know not what mood is on me.  So
+sorry a one that I feared I should be poor company.  Still, if
+you'll endure me, I'll do my best to prove entertaining."
+
+"By no means," she answered coldly.  "I seek not the company of
+dull fellows."  And she was gone.
+
+He stood where she had left him, and breathed a most ungallant
+prayer of thanks.  Next he laughed softly to himself, a laugh
+that was woeful with bitterness.
+
+"Fore George!" he muttered, "it is all that was wanting!" 
+
+He reseated himself upon the fallen tree, and there he set
+himself to reflect, and to realize that he, war-worn and
+callous, come to Castle Marleigh on such an errand as was his,
+should wax sick at the very thought of it for the sake of a
+chit of a maid, with a mind to make a mock and a toy of him. 
+Into his mind there entered even the possibility of flight,
+forgetful of the wrongs he had suffered, abandoning the
+vengeance he had sworn.  Then with an oath he stemmed his
+thoughts.
+
+"God in heaven, am I a boy, beardless and green?" he asked
+himself.  "Am I turned seventeen again, that to look into a
+pair of eyes should make me forget all things but their
+existence?"  Then in a burst of passion: "Would to Heaven," he
+muttered, "they had left me stark on Worcester Field!"
+
+He rose abruptly, and set out to walk aimlessly along, until
+suddenly a turn in the path brought him face to face with
+Cynthia.  She hailed him with a laugh.
+
+"Sir laggard, I knew that willy-nilly you would follow me," she
+cried.  And he, taken aback, could not but smile in answer, and
+profess that she had conjectured rightly.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV
+
+THE HEART OF CYNTHIA ASHBURN
+
+
+Side by side stepped that oddly assorted pair along - the
+maiden whose soul was as pure and fresh as the breeze that blew
+upon them from the sea, and the man whose life years ago had
+been marred by a sorrow, the quest of whose forgetfulness had
+led him through the mire of untold sin; the girl upon the
+threshold of womanhood, her life all before her and seeming to
+her untainted mind a joyous, wholesome business; the man midway
+on his ill-starred career, his every hope blighted save the one
+odious hope of vengeance, which made him cling to a life he had
+proved worthless and ugly, and that otherwise he had likely
+enough cast from him.  And as they walked:
+
+"Sir Crispin," she ventured timidly, "you are unhappy, are you
+not?"
+
+Startled by her words and the tone of them, Galliard turned his
+head that he might observe her.
+
+"I, unhappy?" he laughed; and it was a laugh calculated to
+acknowledge the fitness of her question, rather than to refute
+it as he intended.  "Am I a clown, Cynthia, to own myself
+unhappy at such a season and while you honour me with your
+company?"
+
+She made a wry face in protest that he fenced with her.
+
+"You are happy, then?" she challenged him.
+
+"What is happiness?" quoth he, much as Pilate may have
+questioned what was truth.  Then before she could reply he
+hastened to add: "I have not been quite so happy these many
+years."
+
+"It is not of the present moment that I speak," she answered
+reprovingly, for she scented no more than a compliment in his
+words, "but of your life."
+
+Now either was he imbued with a sense of modesty touching the
+deeds of that life of his, or else did he wisely realize that
+no theme could there he less suited to discourse upon with an
+innocent maid.
+
+"Mistress Cynthia," said he as though he had not heard her
+question, "I would say a word to you concerning Kenneth."
+
+At that she turned upon him with a pout.
+
+"But it is concerning yourself that I would have you talk.  It
+is not nice to disobey a lady.  Besides, I have little interest
+in Master Stewart."
+
+"To have little interest in a future husband augurs ill for the
+time when he shall come to be your husband."
+
+"I thought that you, at least, understood me.  Kenneth will
+never be husband of mine, Sir Crispin."
+
+"Cynthia!" he exclaimed.
+
+"Oh, lackaday!  Am I to wed a doll?" she demanded.  "Is he - is
+he a man a maid may love, Sir Crispin?"
+
+"Indeed, had you but seen the half of life that I have seen,"
+said he unthinkingly, "it might amaze you what manner of man a
+maid may love - or at least may marry.  Come, Cynthia, what
+fault do you find with him?"
+
+"Why, every fault."
+
+He laughed in unbelief.
+
+"And whom are we to blame for all these faults that have turned
+you so against him?"
+
+"Whom?"
+
+"Yourself, Cynthia.  You use him ill, child.  If his behaviour
+has been extravagant, you are to blame.  You are severe with
+him, and he, in his rash endeavours to present himself in a
+guise that shall render him commendable in your eyes, has
+overstepped discretion."
+
+"Has my father bidden you to tell me this?"
+
+"Since when have I enjoyed your father's confidence to that
+degree?  No, no, Cynthia.  I plead the boy's cause to you
+because - I know not because of what."
+
+"It is ill to plead without knowing why.  Let us forget the
+valiant Kenneth.  They tell me, Sir Crispin" - and she turned
+her glorious eyes upon him in a manner that must have witched a
+statue into answering her - "that in the Royal army you were
+known as the Tavern Knight."
+
+"They tell you truly.  What of that?"
+
+"Well, what of it?  Do you blush at the very thought?"
+
+"I blush?"  He blinked, and his eyes were full of humour as
+they met her grave - almost sorrowing glance.  Then a
+full-hearted peal of laughter broke from him, and scared a
+flight of gulls from the rocks of Sheringham Hithe below.
+
+"Oh, Cynthia!  You'll kill me!" he gasped.  "Picture to
+yourself this Crispin Galliard blushing and giggling like a
+schoolgirl beset by her first lover.  Picture it, I say!  As
+well and as easily might you picture old Lucifer warbling a
+litany for the edification of a Nonconformist parson."
+
+Her eyes were severe in their reproach.
+
+"It is always so with you.  You laugh and jest and make a mock
+of everything.  Such I doubt not has been your way from the
+commencement, and 'tis thus that you are come to this
+condition."
+
+Again he laughed, but this time it was in bitterness.
+
+"Nay, sweet mistress, you are wrong - you are very wrong; it
+was not always thus.  Time was - " He paused.  "Bah!  'Tis the
+coward cries "time was"!  Leave me the past, Cynthia.  It is
+dead, and of the dead we should speak no ill," he jested.
+
+"What is there in your past?" she insisted, despite his words. 
+"What is there in it so to have warped a character that I am
+assured was once - is, indeed, still - of lofty and noble
+purpose?  What is it has brought you to the level you occupy -
+you who were born to lead; you who - "
+
+"Have done, child.  Have done," he begged.
+
+"Nay, tell me.  Let us sit here."  And taking hold of his
+sleeve, she sat herself upon a mound, and made room for him
+beside her on the grass.  With a half-laugh and a sigh he
+obeyed her, and there, on the cliff, in the glow of the
+September sun, he took his seat at her side.
+
+A silence prevailed about them, emphasized rather than broken
+by the droning chant of a fisherman mending his nets on the
+beach below, the intermittent plash of the waves on the
+shingle, and the scream of the gulls that circled overhead. 
+Before the eyes of his flesh was stretched a wide desert of sky
+and water, and before the eyes of his mind the hopeless desert
+of his thirty-eight years.
+
+He was almost tempted to speak.  The note of sympathy in her
+voice allured him, and sympathy was to him as drink to one who
+perishes of thirst.  A passionate, indefinable longing impelled
+him to pour out the story that in Worcester he had related unto
+Kenneth, and thus to set himself better in her eyes; to have
+her realize indeed that if he was come so low it was more the
+fault of others than his own.  The temptation drew him at a
+headlong pace, to be checked at last by the memory that those
+others who had brought him to so sorry a condition were her own
+people.  The humour passed.  He laughed softly, and shook his
+head.
+
+"There is nothing that I can tell you, child.  Let us rather
+talk of Kenneth."
+
+"I do not wish to talk of Kenneth."
+
+"Nay, but you must.  Willy-nilly must you.  Think you it is
+only a war-worn, hard-drinking, swashbuckling ruffler that can
+sin?  Does it not also occur to you that even a frail and
+tender little maid may do wrong as well?"
+
+"What wrong have I done?" she cried in consternation.
+
+"A grievous wrong to this poor lad.  Can you not realize how
+the only desire that governs him is the laudable one of
+appearing favourably in your eyes?"
+
+"That desire gives rise, then, to curious manifestations."
+
+"He is mistaken in the means he adopts, that is all.  In his
+heart his one aim is to win your esteem, and, after all, it is
+the sentiment that matters, not its manifestation.  Why, then,
+are you unkind to him?"
+
+"But I am not unkind.  Or is it unkindness to let him see that
+I mislike his capers?  Would it not be vastly more unkind to
+ignore them and encourage him to pursue their indulgence?  I
+have no patience with him."
+
+"As for those capers, I am endeavouring to show you that you
+yourself have driven him to them."
+
+"Sir Crispin," she cried out, "you grow tiresome."
+
+"Aye," said he, "I grow tiresome.  I grow tiresome because I
+preach of duty.  Marry, it is in truth a tiresome topic."
+
+"How duty?  Of what do you talk?"  And a flush of incipient
+anger spread now on her fair cheek.
+
+"I will be clearer," said he imperturbably.  "This lad is your
+betrothed.  He is at heart a good lad, an honourable and honest
+lad - at times haply over-honest and over-honourable; but let
+that be.  To please a whim, a caprice, you set yourself to
+flout him, as is the way of your sex when you behold a man your
+utter slave.  From this - being all unversed in the obliquity
+of woman - he conceives, poor boy, that he no longer finds
+favour in your eyes, and to win back this, the only thing that
+in the world he values, he behaves foolishly.  You flout him
+anew, and because of it.  He is as jealous with you as a hen
+with her brood."
+
+"Jealous?" echoed Cynthia.
+
+"Why, yes, jealous; and so far does he go as to be jealous even
+of me," he cried, with infinitely derisive relish.  "Think of
+it - he is jealous of me!  Jealous of him they call the Tavern
+Knight!"
+
+She did think of it as he bade her.  And by thinking she
+stumbled upon a discovery that left her breathless.
+
+Strange how we may bear a sentiment in our hearts without so
+much as suspecting its existence, until suddenly a chance word
+shall so urge it into life that it reveals itself with
+unmistakable distinctness.  With her the revelation began in a
+vague wonder at the scorn with which Crispin invested the
+notion that Kenneth should have cause for jealousy on his
+score.  Was it, she asked herself, so monstrously unnatural? 
+Then in a flash the answer came - and it was, that far from
+being a matter for derision, such an attitude in Kenneth lacked
+not for foundation.
+
+In that moment she knew that it was because of Crispin; because
+of this man who spoke with such very scorn of self, that
+Kenneth had become in her eyes so mean and unworthy a creature. 
+Loved him she haply never had, but leastways she had tolerated
+- been even flattered by - his wooing.  By contrasting him now
+with Crispin she had grown to despise him.  His weakness, his
+pusillanimity, his meannesses of soul, stood out in sharp
+relief by contrast with the masterful strength and the high
+spirit of Sir Crispin.
+
+So easily may our ideals change that the very graces of face
+and form that a while ago had pleased her in Kenneth, seemed
+now effeminate attributes, well-attuned to a vacillating,
+purposeless mind.  Far greater beauty did her eyes behold in
+this grimfaced soldier of fortune; the man as firm of purpose
+as he was upright of carriage; gloomy, proud, and reckless;
+still young, yet past the callow age of adolescence.  Since the
+day of his coming to Castle Marleigh she had brought herself to
+look upon him as a hero stepped from the romancers' tales that
+in secret she had read.  The mystery that seemed to envelop
+him; those hints at a past that was not good - but the measure
+of whose evil in her pure innocence she could not guess; his
+very melancholy, his misfortunes, and the deeds she had heard
+assigned to him, all had served to fire her fancy and more
+besides, although, until that moment, she knew it not.
+
+Subconsciously all this had long dwelt in her mind.  And now of
+a sudden that self-deriding speech of Crispin's had made her
+aware of its presence and its meaning.
+
+She loved him.  That men said his life had not been nice, that
+he was a soldier of fortune, little better than an adventurer,
+a man of no worldly weight, were matters of no moment then to
+her.  She loved him.  She knew it now because he had mockingly
+bidden her to think whether Kenneth had cause to be jealous of
+him, and because upon thinking of it, she found that did
+Kenneth know what was in her heart, he must have more than
+cause.
+
+She loved him with that rare love that will urge a woman to the
+last sacrifice a man may ask; a love that gives and gives, and
+seeks nothing in return; that impels a woman to follow the man
+at his bidding, be his way through the world cast in places
+never so rugged; cleaving to him where all besides shall have
+abandoned him; and, however dire his lot, asking of God no
+greater blessing than that of sharing it.
+
+And to such a love as this Crispin was blind - blind to the
+very possibility of its existence; so blind that he laughed to
+scorn the idea of a puny milksop being jealous of him.  And so,
+while she sat, her soul all mastered by her discovery, her face
+white.  and still for very awe of it, he to whom this wealth
+was given, pursued the odious task of wooing her for another.
+
+"You have observed - you must have observed this insensate
+jealousy," he was saying, "and how do you allay it?  You do
+not.  On the contrary, you excite it at every turn.  You are
+exciting it now by having - and I dare swear for no other
+purpose - lured me to walk with you, to sit here with you and
+preach your duty to you.  And when, through jealousy, he shall
+have flown to fresh absurdities, shall you regret your conduct
+and the fruits it has borne?  Shall you pity the lad, and by
+kindness induce him to be wiser?  No.  You will mock and taunt
+him into yet worse displays.  And through these displays, which
+are - though you may not have bethought you of it - of your own
+contriving, you will conclude that he is no fit mate for you,
+and there will be heart-burnings, and years hence perhaps
+another Tavern Knight, whose name will not be Crispin
+Galliard."
+
+She had listened with bent head; indeed, so deeply rapt by her
+discovery, that she had but heard the half of what he said. 
+Now, of a sudden, she looked up, and meeting his glance:
+
+"Is - is it a woman's fault that you are as you are?"
+
+"No, it is not.  But how does that concern the case of
+Kenneth?"
+
+"It does not.  I was but curious.  I was not thinking of
+Kenneth."
+
+He stared at her, dumfounded.  Had he been talking of Kenneth
+to her with such eloquence and such fervour, that she should
+calmly tell him as he paused that it was not of Kenneth she had
+been thinking?
+
+"You will think of him, Cynthia?" he begged.  "You will bethink
+you too of what I have said, and by being kinder and more
+indulgent with this youth you shall make him grow into a man
+you may take pride in.  Deal fairly with him, child, and if
+anon you find you cannot truly love him, then tell him so.  But
+tell him kindly and frankly, instead of using him as you are
+doing."
+
+She was silent a moment, and in their poignancy her feelings
+went very near to anger.  Presently:
+
+"I would, Sir Crispin, you could hear him talk of you," said
+she.
+
+"He talks ill, not a doubt of it, and like enough he has good
+cause."
+
+"Yet you saved his life."
+
+The words awoke Crispin, the philosopher of love, to realities. 
+He recalled the circumstances of his saving Kenneth, and the
+price the boy was to pay for that service; and it suddenly came
+to him that it was wasted breath to plead Kenneth's cause with
+Cynthia, when by his own future actions he was, himself, more
+than likely to destroy the boy's every hope of wedding her. 
+The irony of his attitude smote him hard, and he rose abruptly. 
+The sun hung now a round, red globe upon the very brink of the
+sea.
+
+"Hereafter he may have little cause to thank me," muttered he. 
+"Come, Mistress Cynthia, it grows late."
+
+She rose in mechanical obedience, and together they retraced
+their steps in silence, save for the stray word exchanged at
+intervals touching matters of no moment.
+
+But he had not advocated Kenneth's cause in vain, for all that
+he little recked what his real argument had been, what
+influences he had evoked to urge her to make her peace with the
+lad.  A melancholy listlessness of mind possessed her now. 
+Crispin did not see, never would see, what was in her heart,
+and it might not be hers to show him.  The life that might have
+signified was not to be lived, and since that was so it seemed
+to matter little what befell.
+
+It was thus that when on the morrow her father returned to the
+subject, she showed herself tractable and docile out of her
+indifference, and to Gregory she appeared not averse to listen
+to what he had to advance in the boy's favour.  Anon Kenneth's
+own humble pleading, allied to his contrite and sorrowful
+appearance, were received by her with that same indifference,
+as also with indifference did she allow him later to kiss her
+hand and assume the flattering belief that he was rehabilitated
+in her favour.
+
+But pale grew Mistress Cynthia's cheeks, and sad her soul. 
+Wistful she waxed, sighing at every turn, until it seemed to
+her - as haply it hath seemed to many a maid - that all her
+life must she waste in vain sighs over a man who gave no single
+thought to her.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV
+
+JOSEPH'S RETURN
+
+
+On his side Kenneth strove hard during the days that followed
+to right himself in her eyes.  But so headlong was he in the
+attempt, and so misguided, that presently he overshot his mark
+by dropping an unflattering word concerning Crispin, whereby he
+attributed to the Tavern Knight's influence and example the
+degenerate change that had of late been wrought in him.
+
+Cynthia's eyes grew hard as he spoke, and had he been wise he
+had better served his cause by talking in another vein.  But
+love and jealousy had so addled what poor brains the Lord had
+bestowed upon him, that he floundered on, unmindful of any
+warning that took not the blunt shape of words.  At length,
+however, she stemmed the flow of invective that his lips poured
+forth.
+
+"Have I not told you already, Kenneth, that it better becomes a
+gentleman not to slander the man to whom he owes his life?  In
+fact, that a gentleman would scorn such an action?"
+
+As he had protested before, so did he protest now, that what he
+had uttered was no slander.  And in his rage and mortification
+at the way she used him, and for which he now bitterly
+upbraided her, he was very near the point of tears, like the
+blubbering schoolboy that at heart he was.
+
+"And as for the debt, madam," he cried, striking the oaken
+table of the hall with his clenched hand, "it is a debt that
+shall be paid, a debt which this gentleman whom you defend
+would not permit me to contract until I had promised payment -
+aye, 'fore George! - and with interest, for in the payment I
+may risk my very life."
+
+"I see no interest in that, since you risk nothing more than
+what you owe him," she answered, with a disdain that brought
+the impending tears to his eyes.  But if he lacked the
+manliness to restrain them, he possessed at least the shame to
+turn his back and hide them from her.  "But tell me, sir," she
+added, her curiosity awakened, "if I am to judge, what was the
+nature of this bargain?"
+
+He was silent for a moment, and took a turn in the hall -
+mastering himself to speak - his hands clasped behind his back,
+and his eyes bent towards the polished floor which the evening
+sunlight, filtered through the gules of the leaded windows,
+splashed here and there with a crimson stain.  She sat in the
+great leathern chair at the head of the board, and, watching
+him, waited.
+
+He was debating whether he was bound to secrecy in the matter,
+and in the end he resolved that he was not.  Thereupon, pausing
+before her, he succinctly told the story Crispin had related to
+him that night in Worcester - the story of a great wrong, that
+none but a craven could have left unavenged.  He added nothing
+to it, subtracted nothing from it, but told the tale as it had
+been told to him on that dreadful night, the memory of which
+had still power to draw a shudder from him.
+
+Cynthia sat with parted lips and eager eyes, drinking in that
+touching narrative of suffering that was rather as some
+romancer's fabrication than a true account of what a living man
+had undergone.  Now with sorrow and pity in her heart and
+countenance, now with anger and loathing, she listened until he
+had done, and even when he ceased speaking, and flung himself
+into the nearest chair, she sat on in silence for a spell.
+
+Then of a sudden she turned a pair of flashing eyes upon the
+boy, and in tones charged with a scorn ineffable:
+
+"You dare," she cried, "to speak of that man as you do, knowing
+all this?  Knowing what he has suffered, you dare to rail in
+his absence against those sins to which his misfortunes have
+driven him?  How, think you, would it have fared with you, you
+fool, had you stood in the shoes of this unfortunate?  Had you
+fallen on your craven knees, and thanked the Lord for allowing
+you to keep your miserable life?  Had you succumbed to the
+blows of fate with a whine of texts upon your lips?  Who are
+you?" she went on, rising, breathless in her wrath, which
+caused him to recoil in sheer affright before her.  "Who are
+you, and what are you, that knowing what you know of this man's
+life, you dare to sit in judgment upon his actions and condemn
+them?  Answer me, you fool!"
+
+But never a word had he wherewith to meet that hail of angry,
+contemptuous questions.  The answer that had been so ready to
+his lips that night at Worcester, when, in a milder form the
+Tavern Knight had set him the same question, he dared hot
+proffer now.  The retort that Sir Crispin had not cause enough
+in the evil of others, which had wrecked his life, to risk the
+eternal damnation of his soul, he dared no longer utter. 
+Glibly enough had he said to that stern man that which he dared
+not say now to this sterner beauty.  Perhaps it was fear of her
+that made him dumb, perhaps that at last he knew himself for
+what he was by contrast with the man whose vices he had so
+heartily despised a while ago.
+
+Shrinking back before her anger, he racked his shallow mind in
+vain for a fitting answer.  But ere he had found one, a heavy
+step sounded in the gallery that overlooked the hall, and a
+moment later Gregory Ashburn descended.  His face was ghastly
+white, and a heavy frown furrowed the space betwixt his brows.
+
+In the fleeting glance she bestowed upon her father, she
+remarked not the disorder of his countenance; whilst as for
+Kenneth, he had enough to hold his attention for the time.
+
+Gregory's advent set an awkward constraint upon them, nor had
+he any word to say as he came heavily up the hall.
+
+At the lower end of the long table he paused, and resting his
+hand upon the board, he seemed on the point of speaking when of
+a sudden a sound reached him that caused him to draw a sharp
+breath; it was the rumble of wheels and the crack of a whip.
+
+"It is Joseph!" he cried, in a voice the relief of which was so
+marked that Cynthia noticed it.  And with that exclamation he
+flung past them, and out through the doorway to meet his
+brother so opportunely returned.
+
+He reached the terrace steps as the coach pulled up, and the
+lean figure of Joseph Ashburn emerged from it.
+
+"So, Gregory," he grumbled for greeting, "it was on a fool's
+errand you sent me, after all.  That knave, your messenger,
+found me in London at last when I had outworn my welcome at
+Whitehall.  But, 'swounds, man," he cried, remarking the
+pallor, of his brother's face, "what ails thee?"
+
+"I have news for you, Joseph," answered Gregory, in a voice
+that shook.
+
+"It is not Cynthia?" he inquired.  "Nay, for there she stands
+-and her pretty lover by her side.  'Slife, what a coxcomb the
+lad's grown."
+
+And with that he hastened forward to kiss his niece, and
+congratulate Kenneth upon being restored to her.
+
+"I heard of it, lad, in London," quoth he, a leer upon his
+sallow face - "the story of how a fire-eater named Galliard
+befriended you, trussed a parson and a trooper, and dragged you
+out of jail a short hour before hanging-time."
+
+Kenneth flushed.  He felt the sneer in Joseph's, words like a
+stab.  The man's tone implied that another had done for him
+that which he would not have dared do for himself, and Kenneth
+felt that this was so said in Cynthia's presence with
+malicious, purpose.
+
+He was right.  Partly it was Joseph's way to be spiteful and
+venomous whenever chance afforded him the opportunity.  Partly
+he had been particularly soured at present by his recent
+discomforts, suffered in a cause wherewith he had no, sympathy
+- that of the union Gregory desired 'twixt Cynthia and Kenneth.
+
+There was an evil smile on his thin lips, and his crooked eyes
+rested tormentingly upon the young man.  A fresh taunt trembled
+on his viperish tongue, when Gregory plucked at the skirts of
+his coat, and drew him aside.  They entered the chamber where
+they had held their last interview before Joseph had set out
+for news of Kenneth.  With an air of mystery Gregory closed the
+door, then turned to face his brother.  He stayed him in the
+act of unbuckling his sword-belt.
+
+"Wait, Joseph!" he cried dramatically.  "This is no time to
+disarm.  Keep your sword on your thigh, man; you will need it
+as you never yet have needed it." He paused, took a deep
+breath, and hurled the news at his brother.  "Roland Marleigh
+is here."  And he sat down like a man exhausted.
+
+Joseph did not start; he did not cry out; he did not so much as
+change countenance.  A slight quiver of the eyelids was the
+only outward sign he gave of the shock that his brother's
+announcement had occasioned.  The hand that had rested on the
+buckle of his sword-belt slipped quietly to his side, and he
+deliberately stepped up to Gregory, his eyes set searchingly
+upon the pale, flabby face before him.  A sudden suspicion
+darting through his mind, he took his brother by the shoulders
+and shook him vigorously.
+
+"Gregory, you fool, you have drunk overdeep in my absence."
+
+"I have, I have," wailed Gregory, "and, my God, 'twas he was my
+table-fellow, and set me the example."
+
+"Like enough, like enough," returned Joseph, with a
+contemptuous laugh.  "My poor Gregory, the wine has so fouled
+your worthless wits at last, that they conjure up phantoms to
+sit at the table with you.  Come, man, what petticoat business
+is this?  Bestir yourself, fool."
+
+At that Gregory caught the drift of Joseph's suspicions.
+
+"Tis you are the fool," he retorted angrily, springing to his
+feet, and towering above his brother.
+
+"It was no ghost sat with me, but Roland Marleigh, himself, in
+the flesh, and strangely changed by time.  So changed that I
+knew him not, nor should I know him now but for that which, not
+ten minutes ago, I overheard."
+
+His earnestness was too impressive, his sanity too obvious, and
+Joseph's suspicions were all scattered before it.
+
+He caught Gregory's wrist in a grip that made him wince, and
+forced him back into his seat.
+
+"Gadslife, man, what is it you mean?" he demanded through set
+teeth.  "Tell me."
+
+And forthwith Gregory told him of the manner of Kenneth's
+coming to Sheringham and to Castle Marleigh, accompanied by one
+Crispin Galliard, the same that had been known for his mad
+exploits in the late wars as "rakehelly Galliard," and that was
+now known to the malignants as "The Tavern Knight" for his
+debauched habits.  Crispin's mention of Roland Marleigh on the
+night of his arrival now returned vividly to Gregory's mind,
+and he repeated it, ending with the story that that very
+evening he had overheard Kenneth telling Cynthia.
+
+"And this Galliard, then, is none other than that pup of
+insolence, Roland Marleigh, grown into a dog of war?" quoth
+Joseph.
+
+He was calm - singularly calm for one who had heard such news.
+
+"There remains no doubt of it."
+
+"And you saw this man day by day, sat with him night by night
+over your damned sack, and knew him not?  Oddswounds, man,
+where were your eyes?"
+
+"I may have been blind.  But he is greatly changed.  I would
+defy you, Joseph, to have recognized him."
+
+Joseph sneered, and the flash of his eyes told of the contempt
+wherein he held his brother's judgment and opinions.
+
+"Think not that, Gregory.  I have cause enough to remember
+him," said Joseph, with an unpleasant laugh.  Then as suddenly
+changing his tone for one of eager anxiety:
+
+"But the lad, Gregory, does he suspect, think you?"
+
+"Not a whit.  In that lies this fellow's diabolical cunning. 
+Learning of Kenneth's relations with us, he seized the
+opportunity Fate offered him that night at Worcester, and bound
+the lad on oath to help him when he should demand it, without
+disclosing the names of those against whom he should require
+his services.  The boy expects at any moment to be bidden to go
+forth with him upon his mission of revenge, little dreaming
+that it is here that that tragedy is to be played out."
+
+"This comes of your fine matrimonial projects for Cynthia,"
+muttered Joseph acridly.  He laughed his unpleasant laugh
+again, and for a spell there was silence.
+
+"To think, Gregory," he broke out at last, "that for a
+fortnight he should have been beneath this roof, and you should
+have found no means of doing more effectively that which was
+done too carelessly eighteen years ago."
+
+He spoke as coldly as though the matter were a trivial one. 
+Gregory shuddered and looked at his brother in alarm.
+
+"What now, fool?" cried Joseph, scowling.  "Are you as cowardly
+as you are blind?  Damn me, sir, it seems well that I am
+returned.  I'll have no Marleigh plague my old age for me."  He
+paused a moment, then continued in a quieter voice, but one
+whose ring was sinister beyond words: "Tomorrow I shall find a
+way to draw this your dog of war to some secluded ground.  I
+have some skill," he pursued, tapping his hilt as he spoke,
+"besides, you shall be there, Gregory."  And he smiled darkly. 
+"Is there no other way?" asked Gregory, in distress.
+
+"There was," answered Joseph.  "There was in Parliament.  At
+Whitehall I met a man - one Colonel Pride - a bloodthirsty old
+Puritan soldier, who would give his right hand to see this
+Galliard hanged.  Galliard, it seems, slew the fellow's son at
+Worcester.  Had I but known," he added regretfully - "had your
+wits been keener, and you had discovered it and sent me word, I
+had found means to help Colonel Pride to his revenge.  As it
+is" - he shrugged his shoulders - "there is not time."
+
+"It may be - " began Gregory, then stopped abruptly with an
+exclamation that caused Joseph to wheel sharply round.  The
+door had opened, and on the threshold Sir Crispin Galliard
+stood, deferentially, hat in hand.
+
+Joseph's astonished glance played rapidly over him for a
+second.  Then:
+
+"Who the devil may you be?" he blurted out.
+
+Despite his anxiety, Gregory chuckled at the question.  The
+Tavern Knight came forward.  "I am Sir Crispin Galliard, at
+your service," said he, bowing.  "I was told that the master of
+Marleigh was returned, and that I should find you here, and I
+hasten, sir, to proffer you my thanks for the generous shelter
+this house has given me this fortnight past."
+
+Whilst he spoke he measured Joseph with his eyes, and his
+glance was as hateful as his words were civil.  Joseph was lost
+in amazement.  Little trace was there in this fellow of the
+Roland Marleigh he had known.  Moreover, he had looked to find
+an older man, forgetting that Roland's age could not exceed
+thirty-eight.  Then, again, the fading light, whilst revealing
+the straight, supple lines of his lank figure, softened the
+haggardness of the face and made him appear yet younger than
+the light of day would have shown him.
+
+In an instant Joseph had recovered from his surprise, and for
+all that his mind misgave him tortured by a desire to learn
+whether Crispin was aware of their knowledge concerning him -
+his smile was serene, and his tones level and pleasant, as he
+made answer:
+
+"Sir, you are very welcome.  You have valiantly served one dear
+to us, and the entertainment of our poor house for as long as
+you may deign to honour it is but the paltriest of returns."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI
+
+THE RECKONING
+
+
+Sir Crispin had heard naught of what was being said as he
+entered the room wherein the brothers plotted against him, and
+he little dreamt that his identity was discovered.  He had but
+hastened to perform that which, under ordinary circumstances,
+would have been a natural enough duty towards the master of the
+house.  He had been actuated also by an impatience again to
+behold this Joseph Ashburn - the man who had dealt him that
+murderous sword-thrust eighteen years ago.  He watched him
+attentively, and gathering from his scrutiny that here was a
+dangerous, subtle man, different, indeed, to his dull-witted
+brother, he had determined to act at once.
+
+And so when he appeared in the hall at suppertime, he came
+armed and booted, and equipped as for a journey.
+
+Joseph was standing alone by the huge fire-place, his face to
+the burning logs, and his foot resting upon one of the
+andirons.  Gregory and his daughter were talking together in
+the embrasure of a window.  By the other window, across the
+hall, stood Kenneth, alone and disconsolate, gazing out at the
+drizzling rain that had begun to fall.
+
+As Galliard descended, Joseph turned his head, and his eyebrows
+shot up and wrinkled his forehead at beholding the knight's
+equipment.
+
+"How is this, Sir Crispin?" said he.  "You are going a
+journey?"
+
+"Too long already have I imposed myself upon the hospitality of
+Castle Marleigh," Crispin answered politely as he came and
+stood before the blazing logs.  "To-night, Mr. Ashburn, I go
+hence."
+
+A curious expression flitted across Joseph's face.  The next
+moment, his brows still knit as he sought to fathom his sudden
+action, he was muttering the formal regrets that courtesy
+dictated.  But Crispin had remarked that singular expression on
+Joseph's face - fleeting though it had been - and it flashed
+across his mind that Joseph knew him.  And as he moved away
+towards Cynthia and her father, he thanked Heaven that he had
+taken such measures as he had thought wise and prudent for the
+carrying out of his resolve.
+
+Following him with a glance, Joseph asked himself whether
+Crispin had discovered that he was recognized, and had
+determined to withdraw, leaving his vengeance for another and
+more propitious season.  In answer - little knowing the measure
+of the man he dealt with - he told himself it must be so, and
+having arrived at that conclusion, he there and then determined
+that Crispin should not depart free to return and plague them
+when he listed.  Since Galliard shrank from forcing matters to
+an issue, he himself would do it that very night, and thereby
+settle for all time his business.  And so ere he sat down to
+sup Joseph looked to it that his sword lay at hand behind his
+chair at the table-head.
+
+The meal was a quiet one enough.  Kenneth was sulking 'neath
+the fresh ill-usage - as he deemed it - that he had suffered at
+Cynthia's hands.  Cynthia, in her turn, was grave and silent. 
+That story of Sir Crispin's sufferings gave her much to think
+of, as did also his departure, and more than once did Galliard
+find her eyes fixed upon him with a look half of pity, half of
+some other feeling that he was at a loss to interpret. 
+Gregory's big voice was little heard.  The sinister glitter in
+his brother's eye made him apprehensive and ill at ease.  For
+him the hour was indeed in travail and like to bring forth
+strange doings - but not half so much as it was for Crispin and
+Joseph, each bent upon forcing matters to a head ere they
+quitted that board.  And yet but for these two the meal would
+have passed off in dismal silence.  Joseph was at pains to keep
+suspicion from his guest, and with that intent he talked gaily
+of this and that, told of slight matters that had befallen him
+on his recent journey and of the doings that in London he had
+witnessed, investing each trifling incident with a garb of wit
+that rendered it entertaining.
+
+And Galliard - actuated by the same motives grew reminiscent
+whenever Joseph paused and let his nimble tongue - even
+nimblest at a table amuse those present, or seem to amuse them,
+by a score of drolleries.
+
+He drank deeply too, and this Joseph observed with
+satisfaction.  But here again he misjudged his man.  Kenneth,
+who ate but little, seemed also to have developed an enormous
+thirst, and Crispin grew at length alarmed at that ever empty
+goblet so often filled.  He would have need of Kenneth ere the
+hour was out, and he rightly feared that did matters thus
+continue, the lad's aid was not to be reckoned with.  Had
+Kenneth sat beside him he might have whispered a word of
+restraint in his eat, but the lad was on the other side of the
+board.
+
+At one moment Crispin fancied that a look of intelligence
+passed from Joseph to Gregory, and when presently Gregory set
+himself to ply both him and the boy with wine, his suspicions
+became certainties, and he grew watchful and wary.
+
+Anon Cynthia rose.  Upon the instant Galliard was also on his
+feet.  He escorted her to the foot of the staircase, and there:
+
+"Permit me, Mistress Cynthia," said he, "to take my leave of
+you.  In an hour or so I shall be riding away from Castle
+Marleigh."
+
+Her eyes sought the ground, and had he been observant of her he
+might have noticed that she paled slightly.
+
+"Fare you well, sir," said she in a low voice.  "May happiness
+attend you."
+
+"Madam, I thank you.  Fare you well."
+
+He bowed low.  She dropped him a slight curtsey, and ascended
+the stairs.  Once as she reached the gallery above she turned. 
+He had resumed his seat at table, and was in the act of filling
+his glass.  The servants had withdrawn, and for half an hour
+thereafter they sat on, sipping their wine, and making
+conversation - while Crispin drained bumper after bumper and
+grew every instant more boisterous, until at length his
+boisterousness passed into incoherence.  His eyelids drooped
+heavily, and his chin kept ever and anon sinking forward on to
+his breast.
+
+Kenneth, flushed with wine, yet master of his wits, watched him
+with contempt.  This was the man Cynthia preferred to him! 
+Contempt was there also in Joseph Ashburn's eye, mingled with
+satisfaction.  He had not looked to find the task so easy.  At
+length he deemed the season ripe.
+
+"My brother tells me that you were once acquainted with Roland
+Marleigh," said he.
+
+"Aye," he answered thickly.  "I knew the dog - a merry,
+reckless soul, d -n me.  'Twas his recklessness killed him,
+poor devil - that and your hand, Mr. Ashburn, so the story
+goes."
+
+"What story?"
+
+"What story?" echoed Crispin.  "The story that I heard.  Do you
+say I lie?"  And, swaying in his chair, he sought to assume an
+air of defiance.
+
+Joseph laughed in a fashion that made Kenneth's blood run cold.
+
+"Why, no, I don't deny it.  It was in fair fight he fell. 
+Moreover, he brought the duel upon himself."
+
+Crispin spoke no word in answer, but rose unsteadily to his
+feet, so unsteadily that his chair was overset and fell with a
+crash behind him.  For a moment he surveyed it with a drunken
+leer, then went lurching across the hall towards the door that
+led to the servants' quarters.  The three men sat on, watching
+his antics in contempt, curiosity, and amusement.  They saw him
+gain the heavy oaken door and close it.  They heard the bolts
+rasp as he shot them home, and the lock click; and they saw him
+withdraw the key and slip it into his pocket.
+
+The cold smile still played round Joseph's lips as Crispin
+turned to face them again, and on Joseph's lips did that same
+smile freeze as he saw him standing there, erect and firm, his
+drunkenness all vanished, and his eyes keen and fierce; as he
+heard the ring of his metallic voice:
+
+"You lie, Joseph Ashburn.  It was no fair fight.  It was no
+duel.  It was a foul, murderous stroke you dealt him in the
+back, thinking to butcher him as you butchered his wife and his
+babe.  But there is a God, Master Ashburn" he went on in an
+ever-swelling voice, "and I lived.  Like a salamander I came
+through the flames in which you sought to destroy all trace of
+your vile deed.  I lived, and I, Crispin Galliard, the
+debauched Tavern Knight that was once Roland Marleigh, am here
+to demand a reckoning."
+
+The very incarnation was he then of an avenger, as he stood
+towering before them, his grim face livid with the passion into
+which he had lashed himself as he spoke, his blazing eyes
+watching them in that cunning, half-closed way that was his
+when his mood was dangerous.  And yet the only one that quailed
+was Kenneth, his ally, upon whom comprehension burst with
+stunning swiftness.
+
+Joseph recovered quickly from the surprise of Crispin's
+suddenly reassumed sobriety.  He understood the trick that
+Galliard had played upon them so that he might cut off their
+retreat in the only direction in which they might have sought
+assistance, and he cursed himself for not having foreseen it. 
+Still, anxiety he felt none; his sword was to his hand, and
+Gregory was armed; at the very worst they were two calm and
+able men opposed to a half-intoxicated boy, and a man whom
+fury, he thought, must strip of half his power.  Probably,
+indeed, the lad would side with them, despite his plighted
+word.  Again, he had but to raise his voice, and, though the
+door that Crispin had fastened was a stout one,, he never
+doubted but that his call would penetrate it and bring his
+servants to his rescue.
+
+And so, a smile of cynical unconcern returned to his lips and
+his answer was delivered in a cold, incisive voice.
+
+"The reckoning you have come to demand shall be paid you, sir. 
+Rakehelly Galliard is the hero of many a reckless deed, but my
+judgment is much at fault if this prove not his crowning
+recklessness and his last one.  Gadswounds, sir, are you mad to
+come hither single-handed to beard the lion in his den?"
+
+"Rather the cur in his kennel," sneered Crispin back.  "Blood
+and wounds, Master Joseph, think you to affright me with
+words?"
+
+Still Joseph smiled, deeming himself master of the situation.
+
+"Were help needed, the raising of my voice would bring it me. 
+But it is not.  We are three to one."
+
+"You reckon wrongly.  Mr.  Stewart belongs to me to-night -
+bound by an oath that 'twould damn his soul to break, to help
+me when and where I may call upon him; and I call upon him now. 
+Kenneth, draw your sword."
+
+Kenneth groaned as he stood by, clasping and unclasping his
+hands.
+
+"God's curse on you," he burst out.  "You have tricked me, you
+have cheated me."
+
+"Bear your oath in mind," was the cold answer.  "If you deem
+yourself wronged by me, hereafter you shall have what
+satisfaction you demand.  But first fulfil me what you have
+sworn.  Out with your blade, man."
+
+Still Kenneth hesitated, and but for Gregory's rash action at
+that critical juncture, it is possible that he would have
+elected to break his plighted word.  But Gregory fearing that
+he might determine otherwise, resolved there and then to remove
+the chance of it.  Whipping out his sword, he made a vicious
+pass at the lad's breast.  Kenneth avoided it by leaping
+backwards, but in an instant Gregory had sprung after him, and
+seeing himself thus beset, Kenneth was forced to draw that he
+might protect himself.
+
+They stood in the space between the table and that part of the
+hall that abutted on to the terrace; opposite to them, by the
+door which he had closed, stood Crispin.  At the table-head
+Joseph still sat cool, self-contained, even amused.
+
+He realized the rashness of Gregory's attack upon one that
+might yet have been won over to their side; but he never
+doubted that a few passes would dispose of the lad's
+opposition, and he sought not to interfere.  Then he saw
+Crispin advancing towards him slowly, his rapier naked in his
+hand, and he was forced to look to himself.  He caught at the
+sword that stood behind him, and leaping to his feet he sprang
+forward to meet his grim antagonist.  Galliard's eyes flashed
+out a look of joy, he raised his rapier, and their blades met.
+
+To the clash of their meeting came an echoing clash from beyond
+the table.
+
+"Hold, sir!" Kenneth had cried, as Gregory bore down upon him. 
+But Gregory's answer had been a lunge which the boy had been
+forced to parry.  Taking that crossing of blades for a sign of
+opposition, Gregory thrust again more viciously.  Kenneth
+parried narrowly, his blade pointing straight at his aggressor. 
+He saw the opening, and both instinct and the desire to repel
+Gregory's onslaught drew him into attempting a riposte, which
+drove Gregory back until his shoulders touched the panels of
+the wall.  Simultaneously the boy's foot struck the back of the
+chair which in rising Crispin had overset, and he stumbled. 
+How it happened he scarcely knew, but as he hurtled forward his
+blade slid along his opponent's, and entering Gregory's right
+shoulder pinned him to the wainscot.
+
+Joseph heard the tinkle of a falling blade, and assumed it to
+be Kenneth's.  For the rest he was just then too busy to dare
+withdraw for a second his eyes from Crispin's.  Until that hour
+Joseph Ashburn had accounted himself something of a swordsman,
+and more than a match for most masters of the weapon.  But in
+Crispin he found a fencer of a quality such as he had never yet
+encountered.  Every feint, every botte in his catalogue had he
+paraded in quick succession, yet ever with the same result -
+his point was foiled and put aside with ease.
+
+Desperately he fought now, darting that point of his hither and
+thither in and out whenever the slightest opening offered; yet
+ever did it meet the gentle averting pressure of Crispin's
+blade.  He fought on and marvelled as the seconds went by that
+Gregory came not to his aid.  Then the sickening thought that
+perhaps Gregory was overcome occurred to him.  In such a case
+he must reckon upon himself alone.  He cursed the
+over-confidence that had led him into that ever-fatal error of
+underestimating his adversary.  He might have known that one
+who had acquired Sir Crispin's fame was no ordinary man, but
+one accustomed to face great odds and master them.  He might
+call for help.
+
+He marvelled as the thought occurred to him that the clatter of
+their blades had not drawn his servants from their quarters. 
+Fencing still, he raised his voice:
+
+"Ho, there!  John, Stephen!"
+
+"Spare your breath," growled the knight.  "I dare swear you'll
+have need of it.  None will hear you, call as you will.  I gave
+your four henchmen a flagon of wine wherein to drink to my safe
+journey hence.  They have emptied it ere this, I make no doubt,
+and a single glass of it would set the hardest toper asleep for
+the round of the clock."
+
+An oath was Joseph's only answer - a curse it was upon his own
+folly and assurance.  A little while ago he had thought to have
+drawn so tight a net about this ruler, and here was he now
+taken in its very toils, well-nigh exhausted and in his enemy's
+power.
+
+It occurred to him then that Crispin stayed his hand.  That he
+fenced only on the defensive, and he wondered what might his
+motive be.  He realized that he was mastered, and that at any
+moment Galliard might send home his blade.  He was bathed from
+head to foot in a sweat that was at once of exertion and
+despair.  A frenzy seized him.  Might he not yet turn to
+advantage this hesitancy of Crispin's to strike the final blow?
+
+He braced himself for a supreme effort, and turning his wrist
+from a simulated thrust in the first position, he doubled, and
+stretching out, lunged vigorously in quarte.  As he lengthened
+his arm in the stroke there came a sudden twitch at his wrist;
+the weapon was twisted from his grasp, and he stood disarmed at
+Crispin's mercy.
+
+A gurgling cry broke despite him from his lips, and his eyes
+grew wide in a sickly terror as they encountered the knight's
+sinister glance.  Not three paces behind him was the wall, and
+on it, within the hand's easy reach, hung many a trophied
+weapon that might have served him then.  But the fascination of
+fear was upon him, benumbing his wits and paralysing his limbs,
+with the thought that the next pulsation of his tumultuous
+heart would prove its last.  The calm, unflinching courage that
+had been Joseph's only virtue was shattered, and his iron will
+that had unscrupulously held hitherto his very conscience in
+bondage was turned to water now that he stood face to face with
+death.
+
+Eons of time it seemed to him were sped since the sword was
+wrenched from his hand, and still the stroke he awaited came
+not; still Crispin stood, sinister and silent before him,
+watching him with magnetic, fascinating eyes - as the snake
+watches the bird - eyes from which Joseph could not withdraw
+his own, and yet before which it seemed to him that he quaked
+and shrivelled.
+
+The candles were burning low in their sconces, and the corners
+of that ample, gloomy hall were filled with mysterious shadows
+that formed a setting well attuned to the grim picture made by
+those two figures - the one towering stern and vengeful, the
+other crouching palsied and livid.
+
+Beyond the table, and with the wounded Gregory - lying
+unconscious and bleeding - at his feet, stood Kenneth looking
+on in silence, in wonder and in some horror too.
+
+To him also, as he watched, the seconds seemed minutes from the
+time when Crispin had disarmed his opponent until with a laugh
+- short and sudden as a stab - he dropped his sword and caught
+his victim by the throat.
+
+However fierce the passion that had actuated Crispin, it had
+been held hitherto in strong subjection.  But now at last it
+suddenly welled up and mastered him, causing him to cast all
+restraint to the winds, to abandon reason, and to give way to
+the lust of rage that rendered ungovernable his mood.
+
+Like a burst of flame from embers that have been smouldering
+was the upleaping of his madness, transfiguring his face and
+transforming his whole being.  A new, unconquerable strength
+possessed him; his pulses throbbed swiftly and madly with the
+quickened coursing of his blood, and his soul was filled with
+the cruel elation that attends a lust about to be indulged the
+elation of the beast about to rend its prey.
+
+He was pervaded by the desire to wreak slowly and with his
+hands the destruction of his broken enemy.  To have passed his
+sword through him would have been too swiftly done; the man
+would have died, and Crispin would have known nothing of his
+sufferings.  But to take him thus by the throat; slowly to
+choke the life's breath out of him; to feel his desperate,
+writhing struggles; to be conscious of every agonized twitch of
+his sinews, to watch the purpling face, the swelling veins, the
+protruding eyes filled with the dumb horror of his agony; to
+hold him thus - each second becoming a distinct, appreciable
+division of time - and thus to take what payment he could for
+all the blighted years that lay behind him - this he felt would
+be something like revenge.
+
+Meanwhile the shock of surprise at the unlooked-for movement
+had awakened again the man in Joseph.  For a second even Hope
+knocked at his heart.  He was sinewy and active, and perchance
+he might yet make Galliard repent that he had discarded his
+rapier.  The knight's reason for doing so he thought he had in
+Crispin's contemptuous words:
+
+"Good steel were too great an honour for you, Mr. Ashburn."
+
+And as he spoke, his lean, nervous fingers tightened about
+Joseph's throat in a grip that crushed the breath from him, and
+with it the new-born hope of proving master in his fresh
+combat.  He had not reckoned with this galley-weaned strength
+of Crispin's, a strength that was a revelation to Joseph as he
+felt himself almost lifted from the ground, and swung this way
+and that, like a babe in the hands of a grown man.  Vain were
+his struggles.  His strength ebbed fast; the blood, held
+overlong in his head, was already obscuring his vision, when at
+last the grip relaxed, and his breathing was freed.  As his
+sight cleared again he found himself back in his chair at the
+table-head, and beside him Sir Crispin, his left hand resting
+upon the board, his right grasping once more the sword, and his
+eyes bent mockingly and evilly upon his victim.
+
+Kenneth, looking on, could not repress a shudder.  He had known
+Crispin for a tempestuous man quickly moved to wrath, and he
+had oftentimes seen anger make terrible his face and glance. 
+But never had he seen aught in him to rival this present
+frenzy; it rendered satanical the baleful glance of his eyes
+and the awful smile of hate and mockery with which be gazed at
+last upon the helpless quarry that he had waited eighteen years
+to bring to earth.  "I would," said Crispin, in a harsh,
+deliberate voice, "that you had a score of lives, Master
+Joseph.  As it is I have done what I could.  Two agonies have
+you undergone already, and I am inclined to mercy.  The end is
+at hand.  If you have prayers to say, say them, Master Ashburn,
+though I doubt me it will be wasted breath - you are over-ripe
+for hell."
+
+"You mean to kill me," he gasped, growing yet a shade more
+livid.
+
+"Does the suspicion of it but occur to you?" laughed Crispin,
+"and yet twice already have I given you a foretaste of death. 
+Think you I but jested?"
+
+Joseph's teeth clicked together in a snap of determination. 
+That sneer of Crispin's acted upon him as a blow - but as a
+blow that arouses the desire to retaliate rather than lays low. 
+He braced himself for fresh resistance; not of action, for that
+he realized was futile, but of argument.
+
+"It is murder that you do," he cried.
+
+"No; it is justice.  It has been long on the way, but it has
+come at last."
+
+"Bethink you, Mr. Marleigh - "
+
+"Call me not by that name," cried the other harshly, fearfully. 
+"I have not borne it these eighteen years, and thanks to what
+you have made me, it is not meet that I should bear it now." 
+There was a pause.  Then Joseph spoke again with great calm and
+earnestness.
+
+"Bethink you, Sir Crispin, of what you are about to do.  It can
+benefit you in naught."
+
+"Oddslife, think you it cannot?  Think you it will benefit me
+naught to see you earn at last your reward?"
+
+"You may have dearly to pay for what at best must prove a
+fleeting satisfaction."
+
+"Not a fleeting one, Joseph," he laughed.  "But one the memory
+of which shall send me rejoicing through what years or days of
+life be left me.  A satisfaction that for eighteen years I have
+been waiting to experience; though the moment after it be mine
+find me stark and cold."
+
+"Sir Crispin, you are in enmity with the Parliament - an outlaw
+almost.  I have some influence much influence.  By exerting it
+- "
+
+"Have done, sir!" cried Crispin angrily.  "You talk in vain. 
+What to me is life, or aught that life can give? If I have so
+long endured the burden of it, it has been so that I might draw
+from it this hour.  Do you think there is any bribe you could
+offer would turn me from my purpose?"
+
+A groan from Gregory, who was regaining consciousness, drew his
+attention aside.
+
+"Truss him up,, Kenneth," he commanded, pointing to the
+recumbent figure.  "How?  Do you hesitate?  Now, as God lives,
+I'll be obeyed; or you shall have an unpleasant reminder of the
+oath you swore me!"
+
+With a look of loathing the lad dropped on his knees to do as
+he was bidden.  Then of a sudden:
+
+"I have not the means," he announced.
+
+"Fool, does he not wear a sword-belt and a sash?  Come, attend
+to it!"
+
+"Why do you force me to do this?" the lad still protested
+passionately.  "You have tricked and cheated me, yet I have
+kept my oath and rendered you the assistance you required. 
+They are in your power now, can you not do the rest yourself?"
+
+"On my soul, Master Stewart, I am over-patient with you!  Are
+we to wrangle at every step before you'll take it?  I will have
+your assistance through this matter as you swore to give it. 
+Come, truss me that fellow, and have done with words."
+
+His fierceness overthrew the boy's outburst of resistance. 
+Kenneth had wit enough to see that his mood was not one to
+brook much opposition, and so, with an oath and a groan, he
+went to work to pinion Gregory.
+
+Then Joseph spoke again.  "Weigh well this act of yours, Sir
+Crispin," he cried.  "You are still young; much of life lies
+yet before you.  Do not wantonly destroy it by an act that
+cannot repair the past."
+
+"But it can avenge it, Joseph.  As for my life, you destroyed
+it years ago.  The future has naught to offer me; the present
+has this."  And he drew back his sword to strike.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII
+
+JOSEPH DRIVES A BARGAIN
+
+
+A new terror leapt into Joseph's eyes at that movement of
+Crispin's, and for the third time that night did he taste the
+agony that is Death's forerunner.  Yet Galliard delayed the
+stroke.  He held his sword poised, the point aimed at Joseph's
+breast, and holding, he watched him, marking each phase of the
+terror reflected upon his livid countenance.  He was loth to
+strike, for to strike would mean to end this exquisite torture
+of horror to which he was subjecting him.
+
+Broken Joseph had been before and passive; now of a sudden he
+grew violent again, but in a different way.  He flung himself
+upon his knees before Sir Crispin, and passionately he pleaded
+for the sparing of his miserable life.
+
+Crispin looked on with an eye both of scorn and of cold relish. 
+It was thus he wished to see him, broken and agonized,
+suffering thus something of all that which he himself had
+suffered through despair in the years that were sped.  With
+satisfaction then he watched his victim's agony; he watched it
+too with scorn and some loathing - for a craven was in his eyes
+an ugly sight, and Joseph in that moment was truly become as
+vile a coward as ever man beheld.  His parchment-like face was
+grey and mottled, his brow bedewed with sweat; his lips were
+blue and quivering, his eyes bloodshot and almost threatening
+tears.
+
+In the silence of one who waits stood Crispin, listening, calm
+and unmoved, as though he heard not, until Joseph's whining
+prayers culminated in an offer to make reparation.  Then
+Crispin broke in at length with an impatient gesture.
+
+"What reparation can you make, you murderer?  Can you restore
+to me the wife and child you butchered eighteen years ago?"
+
+"I can restore your child at least," returned the other.  "I
+can and will restore him to you if you but stay your hand. 
+That and much more will I do to repair the past."
+
+Unconsciously Crispin lowered his sword-arm, and for a full
+minute he stood and stared at Joseph.  His jaw was fallen and
+the grim firmness all gone from his face, and replaced by
+amazement, then unbelief followed by inquiry; then unbelief
+again.  The pallor of his cheeks seemed to intensify.  At last,
+however, he broke into a hard laugh.
+
+"What lie is this you offer me?  Zounds, man, are you not
+afraid?"
+
+"It is no lie," Joseph cried, in accents so earnest that some
+of the unbelief passed again from Galliard's face.  "It is the
+truth-God's truth.  Your son lives."
+
+"Hell-hound, it is a lie!  On that fell night, as I swooned
+under your cowardly thrust, I heard you calling to your brother
+to slit the squalling bastard's throat.  Those were your very
+words, Master Joseph."
+
+"I own I bade him do it, but I was not obeyed.  He swore we
+should give the babe a chance of life.  It should never know
+whose son it was, he said, and I agreed.  We took the boy away. 
+He has lived and thrived."
+
+The knight sank on to a chair as though bereft of strength.  He
+sought to think, but thinking coherently he could not.  At
+last:
+
+"How shall I know that you are not lying?  What proof can you
+advance?" he demanded hoarsely.
+
+"I swear that what I have told you is true.  I swear it by the
+cross of our Redeemer!" he protested, with a solemnity that was
+not without effect upon Crispin.  Nevertheless, he sneered.
+
+"I ask for proofs, man, not oaths.  What proofs can you afford
+me?"
+
+"There are the man and the woman whom the lad was reared by."
+
+"And where shall I find them?"
+
+Joseph opened his lips to answer, then closed them again.  In
+his eagerness he had almost parted with the information which
+he now proposed to make the price of his life.  He regained
+confidence at Crispin's tone and questions, gathering from both
+that the knight was willing to believe if proof were set before
+him.  He rose to his feet, and when next he spoke his voice had
+won back much of its habitual calm deliberateness.
+
+"That," said he, "I will tell you when you have promised to go
+hence, leaving Gregory and me unharmed.  I will supply you with
+what money you may need, and I will give you a letter to those
+people, so couched that what they tell you by virtue of it
+shall be a corroboration of my words."
+
+His elbow resting upon the table, and his hand to his brow so
+that it shaded his eyes, sat Crispin long in thought, swayed by
+emotions and doubts, the like of which he had never yet known
+in the whole of his chequered life.  Was Joseph lying to him?
+
+That was the question that repeatedly arose, and oddly enough,
+for all his mistrust of the man, he was inclined to account
+true the ring of his words.  Joseph watched him with much
+anxiety and some hope.
+
+At length Crispin withdrew his hands from eyes that were grown
+haggard, and rose.
+
+"Let us see the letter that you will write," said he.  "There
+you have pen, ink, and paper.  Write."
+
+"You promise?" asked Joseph.
+
+"I will tell you when you have written."
+
+In a hand that shook somewhat, Joseph wrote a few lines, then
+handed Crispin the sheet, whereon he read:
+
+The bearer of this is Sir Crispin Galliard, who is intimately
+interested in the matter that lies betwixt us, and whom I pray
+you answer fully and accurately the questions he may put you in
+that connexion.
+
+"I understand," said Crispin slowly.  "Yes, it will serve.  Now
+the superscription."  And he returned the paper.
+
+Ashburn was himself again by now.  He realized the advantage he
+had gained, and he would not easily relinquish it.
+
+"I shall add the superscription," said he calmly, "when you
+swear to depart without further molesting us."
+
+Crispin paused a moment, weighing the position well in his
+mind.  If Joseph lied to him now, he would find means to
+return, he told himself, and so he took the oath demanded.
+
+Joseph dipped his pen, and paused meditatively to watch a drop
+of ink, wherewith it was overladen, fall back into the horn. 
+The briefest of pauses was it, yet it was not the accident it
+appeared to be.  Hitherto Joseph had been as sincere as he had
+been earnest, intent alone upon saving his life at all costs,
+and forgetting in his fear of the present the dangers that the
+future might hold for him were Crispin Galliard still at large. 
+But in that second of dipping his quill, assured that the peril
+of the moment was overcome, and that Crispin would go forth as
+he said, the devil whispered in his ear a cunning and vile
+suggestion.  As he watched the drop of ink roll from his
+pen-point, he remembered that in London there dwelt at the sign
+of the Anchor, in Thames Street, one Colonel Pride, whose son
+this Galliard had slain, and who, did he once lay hands upon
+him, was not like to let him go again.  In a second was the
+thought conceived and the determination taken, and as he folded
+the letter and set upon it the superscription, Joseph felt that
+he could have cried out in his exultation at the cunning manner
+in which he was outwitting his enemy.
+
+Crispin took the package, and read thereon:
+
+This is to Mr. Henry Lane, at the sign of the Anchor, Thames
+Street, London.
+
+The name was a fictitious one - one that Joseph had set down
+upon the spur of the moment, his intention being to send a
+messenger that should outstrip Sir Crispin, and warn Colonel
+Pride of his coming.
+
+"It is well," was Crispin's only comment.  He, too, was grown
+calm again and fully master of himself.  He placed the letter
+carefully within the breast of his doublet.
+
+"If you have lied to me, if this is but a shift to win your
+miserable life, rest assured, Master Ashburn, that you have but
+put off the day for a very little while."
+
+It was on Joseph's lips to answer that none of us are immortal,
+but he bethought him that the pleasantry might be ill-timed,
+and bowed in silence.
+
+Galliard took his hat and cloak from the chair on which he had
+placed them upon descending that evening.  Then he turned again
+to Joseph.
+
+"You spoke of money a moment ago," he said, in the tones of one
+demanding what is his own the tones of a gentleman speaking to
+his steward.  "I will take two hundred Caroluses.  More I
+cannot carry in comfort."
+
+Joseph gasped at the amount.  For a second it even entered his
+mind to resist the demand.  Then he remembered that there was a
+brace of pistols in his study; if he could get those he would
+settle matters there and then without the aid of Colonel Pride.
+
+"I will fetch the money," said he, betraying his purpose by his
+alacrity.
+
+"By your leave, Master Ashburn, I will come with you."
+
+Joseph's eyes flashed him a quick look of baffled hate.
+
+"As you will," said he, with an ill grace.
+
+As they passed out, Crispin turned to Kenneth.
+
+"Remember, sir, you are still in my service.  See that you keep
+good watch."
+
+Kenneth bent his head without replying.  But Master Gregory
+required little watching.  He lay a helpless, half-swooning
+heap upon the floor, which he had smeared with the blood oozing
+from his wounded shoulder.  Even were he untrussed, there was
+little to be feared from him.
+
+During the brief while they were alone together, Kenneth did
+not so much as attempt to speak to him.  He sat himself down
+upon the nearest chair, and with his chin in his hands and his
+elbows on his knees he pondered over the miserable predicament
+into which Sir Crispin had got him, and more bitter than ever
+it had been was his enmity at that moment towards the knight. 
+That Galliard should be upon the eve of finding his son, and a
+sequel to the story he had heard from him that night in
+Worcester, was to Kenneth a thing of no interest or moment. 
+Galliard had ruined him with these Ashburns.  He could never
+now hope to win the hand of Cynthia, to achieve which he had
+been willing to turn both fool and knave - aye, had turned
+both.  There was naught left him but to return him to the
+paltry Scottish estate of his fathers, there to meet the sneers
+of those who no doubt had heard that he was gone South to marry
+a great English heiress.
+
+That at such a season he could think of this but serves to
+prove the shallow nature of his feelings.  A love was his that
+had gain and vanity for its foundation - in fact, it was no
+love at all.  For what he accounted love for Cynthia was but
+the love of himself, which through Cynthia he sought to
+indulge.
+
+He cursed the ill-luck that had brought Crispin into his life. 
+He cursed Crispin for the evil he had suffered from him,
+forgetting that but for Crispin he would have been carrion a
+month ago and more.
+
+Deep at his bitter musings was he when the door opened again to
+admit Joseph, followed by Galliard.  The knight came across the
+hall and stooped to look at Gregory.
+
+"You may untruss him, Kenneth, when I am gone," said he.  "And
+in a quarter of an hour from now you are released from your
+oath to me.  Fare you well," he added with unusual gentleness,
+and turning a glance that was almost regretful upon the lad. 
+"We are not like to meet again, but should we, I trust it may
+be in happier times.  If I have harmed you in this business,
+remember that my need was great.  Fare you well."  And he held
+out his hand.
+
+"Take yourself to hell, sir!" answered Kenneth, turning his
+back upon him.  The ghost of an evil smile played round Joseph
+Ashburn's lips as he watched them.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII
+
+COUNTER-PLOT
+
+
+So soon as Sir Crispin had taken his departure, and whilst yet
+the beat of his horse's hoofs was to be distinguished above the
+driving storm of rain and wind without, Joseph hastened across
+the hall to the servants' quarters.  There he found his four
+grooms slumbering deeply, their faces white and clammy, and
+their limbs twisted into odd, helpless attitudes.  Vainly did
+he rain down upon them kicks and curses; arouse them he could
+not from the stupor in whose thrall they lay.
+
+And so, seizing a lanthorn, he passed out to the stables,
+whence Crispin had lately taken his best nag, and with his own
+hands he saddled a horse.  His lips were screwed into a curious
+smile - a smile that still lingered upon them when presently he
+retraced his steps to the room where his brother sat with
+Kenneth.
+
+In his absence the lad had dressed Gregory's wound; he had
+induced him to take a little wine, and had set him upon a
+chair, in which he now lay back, white and exhausted.
+
+"The quarter of an hour is passed, sir," said Joseph coldly, as
+he entered.
+
+Kenneth made no sign that he heard.  He sat on like a man in a
+dream.  His eyes that saw nothing were bent upon Gregory's
+pale, flabby face.
+
+"The quarter of an hour is passed, sir," Joseph repeated in a
+louder voice.
+
+Kenneth looked up, then rose and sighed, passing his hand
+wearily across his forehead.
+
+"I understand, sir," he replied in a low voice.  "You mean that
+I must go?"
+
+Joseph waited a moment before replying.  Then:
+
+"It is past midnight," he said slowly, "and the weather is
+wild.  You may lie here until morning, if you are so minded. 
+But go you must then," he added sternly.  "I need scarce say,
+sir, that you must have no speech with Mistress Cynthia, nor
+that never again must you set foot within Castle Marleigh."
+
+"I understand, sir; I understand.  But you deal hardly with
+me."
+
+Joseph raised his eyebrows in questioning surprise.
+
+"I was the victim of my oath, given when I knew not against
+whom my hand was to be lifted.  Oh, sir, am I to suffer all my
+life for a fault that was not my own?  You, Master Gregory," he
+cried, turning passionately to Cynthia's father, "you are
+perchance more merciful?  You understand my position - how I
+was forced into it."
+
+Gregory opened his heavy eyes.
+
+"A plague on you, Master Stewart," he groaned.  "I understand
+that you have given me a wound that will take a month to heal."
+
+"It was an accident, sir.  I swear it was an accident!"
+
+"To swear this and that appears to be your chief diversion in
+life," growled Gregory for answer.  "You had best go; we are
+not likely to listen to excuses."
+
+"Did you rather suggest a remedy," Joseph put in quietly, "we
+might hear you."
+
+Kenneth swung round and faced him, hope brightening his eyes.
+
+"What remedy is there?  How can I undo what I have done?  Show
+me but the way, and I'll follow it, no matter where it leads!"
+
+Such protestations had Joseph looked to hear, and he was hard
+put to it to dissemble his satisfaction.  For a while he was
+silent, making pretence to ponder.  At length:
+
+"Kenneth," he said, "you may in some measure repair the evil
+you have done, and if you are ready to undergo some slight
+discomfort, I shall be willing on my side to forget this
+night."
+
+"Tell me how, sir, and whatever the cost I will perform it!"
+
+He gave no thought to the fact that Crispin's grievance against
+the Ashburns was well-founded; that they had wrecked his life
+even as they had sought to destroy it; even as eighteen years
+ago they had destroyed his wife's.  His only thought was
+Cynthia; his only wish was to possess her.  Besides that,
+justice and honour itself were of small account.
+
+"It is but a slight matter," answered Joseph.  "A matter that I
+might entrust to one of my grooms."
+
+That whilst his grooms lay drugged the matter was so pressing
+that his messenger must set out that very night, Joseph did not
+think of adding.
+
+"I would, sir," answered the boy, "that the task were great and
+difficult."
+
+"Yes, yes," answered Joseph with biting sarcasm, "we are
+acquainted with both your courage and your resource."  He sat
+silent and thoughtful for some moments, then with a sudden
+sharp glance at the lad:
+
+"You shall have this chance of setting yourself right with us,"
+he said.  Then abruptly he added.
+
+"Go make ready for a journey.  You must set out within the hour
+for London.  Take what you may require and arm yourself; then
+return to me here."
+
+Gregory, who, despite his sluggish wits, divined - partly, at
+least - what was afoot, made shift to speak.  But his brother
+silenced him with a glance.
+
+"Go," Joseph said to the boy.  And, without comment, Kenneth
+rose and left them.
+
+"What would you do?" asked Gregory when the door had closed.
+
+"Make doubly sure of that ruffian," answered Joseph coldly. 
+"Colonel Pride might be absent when he arrives, and he might
+learn that none of the name of Lane dwells at the Anchor in
+Thames Street.  It would be fatal to awaken his suspicions and
+bring him back to us."
+
+"But surely Richard or Stephen might carry your errand?"
+
+"They might were they not so drugged that they cannot be
+aroused.  I might even go myself, but it is better so."  He
+laughed softly.  "There is even comedy in it.  Kenneth shall
+outride our bloodthirsty knight to warn Pride of his coming,
+and when he comes he will walk into the hands of the hangman. 
+It will be a surprise for him.  For the rest I shall keep my
+promise concerning his son.  He shall have news of him from
+Pride - but when too late to be of service."
+
+Gregory shuddered.
+
+"Fore God, Joseph, 'tis a foul thing you do," he cried. 
+"Sooner would I never set eyes on the lad again.  Let him go
+his ways as you intended."
+
+"I never did intend it.  What trustier messenger could I find
+now that I have lent him zest by fright?  To win Cynthia, we
+may rely upon him safely to do that in which another might
+fail."
+
+"Joseph, you will roast in hell for it."
+
+Joseph laughed him to scorn.
+
+"To bed with you, you canting hypocrite; your wound makes you
+light-headed."
+
+It was a half-hour ere Kenneth returned, booted, cloaked, and
+ready for his journey.  He found Joseph alone, busily writing,
+and in obedience to a sign he sat him down to wait.
+
+A few minutes passed, then, with a final scratch and splutter
+Joseph flung down his pen.  With the sandbox tilted in the air,
+like a dicer about to make his throw, he looked at the lad.
+
+"You will spare neither whip nor spur until you arrive in
+London, Master Kenneth.  You must ride night and day; the
+matter is of the greatest urgency."
+
+Kenneth nodded that he understood, and Joseph sprinkled the
+sand over the written page.
+
+"I know not when you should reach London so that you may be in
+time, but," he continued, and as he spoke he creased the paper
+and poured the superfluous sand back into the box, "I should
+say that by midnight to-morrow your message should be
+delivered.  Aye," he continued, in answer to the lad's gasp of
+surprise, "it is hard riding, I know, but if you would win
+Cynthia you must do it.  Spare neither money nor horseflesh,
+and keep to the saddle until you are in Thames Street."
+
+He folded the letter, sealed it, and wrote the superscription:
+"This to Colonel Pride, at the sign of the Anchor in Thames
+Street."
+
+He rose and handed the package to Kenneth, to whom the
+superscription meant nothing, since he had not seen that borne
+by the letter which Crispin had received.
+
+"You will deliver this intact, and with your own hands, to
+Colonel Pride in person - none other.  Should he be absent from
+Thames Street upon your arrival, seek him out instantly,
+wherever he may be, and give him this.  Upon your faithful
+observance of these conditions remember that your future
+depends.  If you are in time, as indeed I trust and think you
+will be, you may account yourself Cynthia's husband.  Fail and
+- well, you need not return here."
+
+"I shall not fail, sir," cried Kenneth.  "What man can do to
+accomplish the journey within twenty-four hours, I will do."
+
+He would have stopped to thank Joseph for the signal favour of
+this chance of rehabilitation, but Joseph cut him short.
+
+"Take this purse," he cried impatiently.  "You will find a
+horse ready saddled in the stables.  Ride it hard.  It will
+bear you to Norton at least.  There get you a fresh one, and
+when that is done, another.  Now be off."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIX
+
+THE INTERRUPTED JOURNEY
+
+
+When the Tavern Knight left the gates of Marleigh Park behind
+him on that wild October night, he drove deep the rowels of his
+spurs, and set his horse at a perilous gallop along the road to
+Norwich.  The action was of instinct rather than of thought. 
+In the turbulent sea of his mind, one clear current there was,
+and one only - the knowledge that he was bound for London for
+news of this son of his whom Joseph told him lived.  He paused
+not even to speculate what manner of man his child was grown,
+nor yet what walk of life he had been reared to tread.  He
+lived: he was somewhere in the world; that for the time
+sufficed him.  The Ashburns had not, it seemed, destroyed quite
+everything that made his life worth enduring - the life that so
+often and so wantonly he had exposed.
+
+His son lived, and in London he should have news of him.  To
+London then must he get himself with all dispatch, and he swore
+to take no rest until he reached it.  And with that firm
+resolve to urge him, he ploughed his horse's flanks, and sped
+on through the night.  The rain beat in his face, yet he scarce
+remarked it, as again more by instinct than by reason - he
+buried his face to the eyes in the folds of his cloak.
+
+Later the rain ceased, and clearer grew the line of light
+betwixt the hedgerows, by which his horse had steered its
+desperate career.  Fitfully a crescent moon peered out from
+among the wind-driven clouds.  The poor ruffler was fallen into
+meditation, and noted not that his nag did no more than amble. 
+He roused himself of a sudden when half-way down a gentle slope
+some five miles from Norwich, and out of temper at discovering
+the sluggishness of the pace, he again gave the horse a taste
+of the spurs.  The action was fatal.  The incline was become a
+bed of sodden clay, and he had not noticed with what misgivings
+his horse pursued the treacherous footing.  The sting of the
+spur made the animal bound forward, and the next instant a
+raucous oath broke from Crispin as the nag floundered and
+dropped on its knees.  Like a stone from a catapult Galliard
+flew over its head and rolled down the few remaining yards of
+the slope into a very lake of slimy water at the bottom.
+
+Down this same hill, some twenty minutes later, came Kenneth
+Stewart with infinite precaution.  He was in haste - a haste
+more desperate far than even Crispin's.  But his character held
+none of Galliard's recklessness, nor were his wits fogged by
+such news as Crispin had heard that night.  He realized that to
+be swift he must be cautious in his night-riding.  And so,
+carefully he came, with a firm hand on the reins, yet leaving
+it to his horse to find safe footing.
+
+He had reached the level ground in safety, and was about to put
+his nag to a smarter pace, when of a sudden from the darkness
+of the hedge he was hailed by a harsh, metallic voice, the
+sound of which sent a tremor through him.
+
+"Sir, you are choicely met, whoever you may be.  I have
+suffered a mischance down that cursed hill, and my horse has
+gone lame."
+
+Kenneth kept his cloak over his mouth, trusting that the
+muffling would sufficiently disguise his accents as he made
+answer.
+
+"I am in haste, my master.  What is your will?"
+
+"Why, marry, so am I in haste.  My will is your horse, sir. 
+Oh, I'm no robber.  I'll pay you for it, and handsomely.  But
+have it I must.  'Twill be no great discomfort for you to walk
+to Norwich.  You may do it in an hour."
+
+"My horse, sir, is not for sale," was Kenneth's brief answer. 
+"Give you good night."
+
+"Hold, man!  Blood and hell, stop!  If you'll not sell the
+worthless beast to serve a gentleman, I'll shoot it under you. 
+Make your choice."
+
+Kenneth caught the gleam of a pistol-barrel pointed at him from
+the hedge, and he shivered.  What was he to do?  Every instant
+was precious to him.  As in a flash it came to him that
+perchance Sir Crispin also rode to London, and that it was
+expected of him to arrive there first if he were to be in time. 
+Swiftly he weighed the odds in his mind, and took the
+determination to dash past Sir Crispin, risking his aim and
+trusting to the dark to befriend him.
+
+But even as he determined thus, what moon there was became
+unveiled, and the light of it fell upon his face, which was
+turned towards Galliard.  An exclamation of surprise escaped
+Sir Crispin.
+
+"'Slife, Master Stewart, I knew not your voice.  Whither do you
+ride?"
+
+"What is it to you?  Have you not wrought enough of evil for
+me?  Am I never to be rid of you?  Castle Marleigh," he added,
+with well-feigned anger, "has closed its doors upon me.  What
+does it signify to you whither I ride?  Suffer me leastways to
+pass unmolested, and to leave you."
+
+Kenneth's passionate reproaches cut Galliard keenly.  He held
+himself at that moment a very knave for having dragged this boy
+into his work of vengeance, and thereby cast a blight upon his
+life.  He sought for words wherein to give expression to
+something of what he felt, then realizing how futile and effete
+all words must prove, he waved his hand in the direction of the
+road.
+
+"Go, Master Stewart," he muttered.  "Your way is clear."
+
+And Kenneth, waiting for no second invitation, rode on and left
+him.  He rode with gratitude in his heart to the Providence
+that had caused him so easily to overcome an obstacle that at
+first he had held impassable.  Stronger grew in his mind the
+conviction that to fulfil the mission Joseph required of him,
+he must reach London before Sir Crispin.  The knowledge that he
+was ahead of him, and that he must derive an ample start from
+Galliard's mishap, warmed him like wine.
+
+His mind thus relieved from its weight of anxiety, he little
+recked fatigue, and such excellent use did he make of his horse
+that he reached Newmarket on it an hour before the morrow's
+moon.
+
+An hour he rested there, and broke his fast.  Then on a fresh
+horse - a powerful and willing animal he set out once more.
+
+By half-past two he was at Newport.  But so hard had he ridden
+that man and beast alike were in a lather of sweat, and whilst
+he himself felt sick and tired, the horse was utterly unfit to
+bear him farther.  For half an hour he rested there, and made a
+meal whose chief constituent was brandy.  Then on a third horse
+he started upon the last stage of his journey.
+
+The wind was damp and penetrating; the roads veritable morasses
+of mud, and overhead gloomy banks of dark, grey clouds moved
+sluggishly, the light that was filtered through them giving the
+landscape a bleak and dreary aspect.  In his jaded condition
+Kenneth soon became a prey to the depression of it.  His
+lightness of heart of some dozen hours ago was now all gone,
+and not even the knowledge that his mission was well-nigh
+accomplished sufficed to cheer him.  To add to his discomfort a
+fine rain set in towards four o'clock, and when a couple of
+hours later he clattered along the road cut through a wooded
+slope in the direction of Waltham, he was become a very limp
+and lifeless individual.
+
+He noticed not the horsemen moving cautiously among the
+closely-set trees on either side of the road.  It was growing
+prematurely dark, and objects were none too distinct.  And thus
+it befell that when from the reverie of dejection into which he
+had fallen he was suddenly aroused by the thud of hoofs, he
+looked up to find two mounted men barring the road some ten
+yards in front of him.  Their attitude was unmistakable, and it
+crossed poor Kenneth's mind that he was beset by robbers.  But
+a second glance showed him their red cloaks and military steel
+caps, and he knew them for soldiers of the Commonwealth.
+
+Hearing the beat of hoofs behind him, he looked over his
+shoulder to see four other troopers closing rapidly down upon
+him.  Clearly he was the object of their attention.  He had
+been a fool not to have perceived this earlier, and his heart
+misgave him, for all that had he paused to think he must have
+realized that he had naught to fear, and that in this some
+mistake must lie.
+
+"Halt!" thundered the deep voice of the sergeant, who, with a
+trooper, held the road in front.
+
+Kenneth drew up within a yard of them, conscious that the man's
+dark eyes were scanning him sharply from beneath his morion.
+
+"Who are you, sir?" the bass voice demanded.
+
+Alas for the vanity of poor human mites!  Even Kenneth, who
+never yet had achieved aught for the cause he served, grew of a
+sudden chill to think that perchance this sergeant might
+recognize his name for one that he had heard before associated
+with deeds performed on the King's behalf.
+
+For a second he hesitated; then:
+
+"Blount," he stammered, "Jasper Blount."
+
+He little thought how that fruit of his vanity was to prove his
+undoing thereafter.
+
+"Verily," sneered the sergeant, "it almost seemed you had
+forgotten it."  And from that sneer Kenneth gathered with fresh
+dread that the fellow mistrusted him.
+
+"Whence are you, Master Blount?"
+
+Again Kenneth hesitated.  Then recalling Ashburn's high favour
+with the Parliament, and seeing that it could but advance his
+cause to state the true sum of his journey:
+
+"From Castle Marleigh," he replied.
+
+"Verily, sir, you seem yet in some doubt.  Whither do you go?"
+
+"To London."
+
+"On what errand?"  The sergeant's questions fell swift as
+sword-strokes.
+
+"With letters for Colonel Pride."
+
+The reply, delivered more boldly than Kenneth had spoken
+hitherto, was not without its effect.
+
+"From whom are these letters?"
+
+"From Mr. Joseph Ashburn, of Castle Marleigh."
+
+"Produce them."
+
+With trembling fingers Kenneth complied.  This the sergeant
+observed as he took the package.
+
+"What ails you, man?" quoth he.
+
+"Naught, sir 'tis the cold."
+
+The sergeant scanned the package and its seal.  In a measure it
+was a passport, and he was forced to the conclusion that this
+man was indeed the messenger he represented himself.  Certainly
+he had not the air nor the bearing of him for whom they waited,
+nor did the sergeant think that their quarry would have armed
+himself with a dummy package against such a strait.  And yet
+the sergeant was not master after all, and did he let this
+fellow pursue his journey, he might reap trouble for it
+hereafter; whilst likewise if he detained him, Colonel Pride,
+he knew, was not an over-patient man.  He was still debating
+what course to take, and had turned to his companion with the
+muttered question: "What think you, Peter?" when by his
+precipitancy Kenneth ruined his slender chance of being
+permitted to depart.
+
+"I pray you, sir, now that you know my errand, suffer me to
+pass on."
+
+There was an eager tremor in his voice that the sergeant
+mistook for fear.  He noted it, and remembering the boy's
+hesitancy in answering his earlier questions, he decided upon
+his course of action.
+
+"We shall not delay your journey, sir," he answered, eyeing
+Kenneth sharply, "and as your way must lie through Waltham, I
+will but ask you to suffer us to ride with you thus far, so
+that there you may answer any questions our captain may have to
+ask ere you proceed."
+
+"But, sir - "
+
+"No more, master courier," snarled the sergeant.  Then,
+beckoning a trooper to his side, he whispered an order in his
+ear.
+
+As the man withdrew they wheeled their horses, and at a sharp
+word of command Kenneth rode on towards Waltham between the
+sergeant and a trooper.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XX
+
+THE CONVERTED HOGAN
+
+
+Night black and impenetrable had set in ere Kenneth and his
+escort clattered over the greasy stones of Waltham's High
+Street, and drew up in front of the Crusader Inn.
+
+The door stood wide and hospitable, and a warm shaft of light
+fell from it and set a glitter upon the wet street.  Avoiding
+the common-room, the sergeant led Kenneth through the inn-yard,
+and into the hostelry by a side entrance.  He urged the youth
+along a dimly-lighted passage.  On a door at the end of this he
+knocked, then, lifting the latch, he ushered Kenneth into a
+roomy, oak-panelled chamber.
+
+At the far end a huge fire burnt cheerfully, and with his back
+to it, his feet planted wide apart upon the hearth, stood a
+powerfully built man of medium height, whose youthful face and
+uprightness of carriage assorted ill with the grey of his hair,
+pronouncing that greyness premature.  He seemed all clad in
+leather, for where his jerkin stopped his boots began.  A
+cuirass and feathered headpiece lay in a corner, whilst on the
+table Kenneth espied a broad-brimmed hat, a huge sword, and a
+brace of pistols.
+
+As the boy's eyes came back to the burly figure on the hearth,
+he was puzzled by a familiar, intangible something in the
+fellow's face.
+
+He was racking his mind to recall where last he had seen it,
+when with slightly elevated eyebrows and a look of recognition
+in his somewhat prominent blue eyes
+
+"Soul of my body," exclaimed the man in surprise, "Master
+Stewart, as I live."
+
+"Stuart!" cried both sergeant and trooper in a gasp, starting
+forward to scan their prisoner's face.
+
+At that the burly captain broke into a laugh.
+
+"Not the young man Charles Stuart," said he; "no, no.  Your
+captive is none so precious.  It is only Master Kenneth
+Stewart, of Bailienochy."
+
+"Then it is not even our man," grumbled the soldier.
+
+"But Stewart is not the name he gave," cried the sergeant. 
+"Jasper Blount he told me he was called.  It seems that after
+all we have captured a malignant, and that I was well advised
+to bring him to you."
+
+The captain made a gesture of disdain.  In that moment Kenneth
+recognized him.  He was Harry Hogan - the man whose life
+Galliard had saved in Penrith.
+
+"Bah, a worthless capture, Beddoes," he said.
+
+"I know not that," retorted the sergeant.  "He carries papers
+which he states are from Joseph Ashburn, of Castle Marleigh, to
+Colonel Pride.  Colonel Pride's name is on the package, but may
+not that be a subterfuge?  Why else did he say he was called
+Blount?"
+
+Hogan's brows were of a sudden knit.
+
+"Faith, Beddoes, you are right.  Remove his sword and search
+him."
+
+Calmly Kenneth suffered them to carry out this order.  Inwardly
+he boiled at the delay, and cursed himself for having so
+needlessly given the name of Blount.  But for that, it was
+likely Hogan would have straightway dismissed him.  He cheered
+himself with the thought that after all they would not long
+detain him.  Their search made, and finding nothing upon him
+but Ashburn's letter, surely they would release him.
+
+But their search was very thorough.  They drew off his boots,
+and well-nigh stripped him naked, submitting each article of
+his apparel to a careful examination.  At length it was over,
+and Hogan held Ashburn's package, turning it over in his hands
+with a thoughtful expression.
+
+"Surely, sir, you will now allow me to proceed," cried Kenneth. 
+"I assure you the matter is of the greatest urgency, and unless
+I am in London by midnight I shall be too late."
+
+"Too late for what?" asked Hogan.
+
+"I - I don't know."
+
+"Oh?"  The Irishman laughed unpleasantly.  Colonel Pride and he
+were on anything but the best of terms.  The colonel knew him
+for a godless soldier of fortune bound to the Parliament's
+cause by no interest beyond that of gain; and, himself a
+zealot, Colonel Pride had with distasteful frequency shown
+Hogan the quality of his feelings towards him.  That Hogan was
+not afraid of him, was because it was not in Hogan's nature to
+be afraid of anyone.  But he realized at least that he had
+cause to be, and at the present moment it occurred to him that
+it would be passing sweet to find a flaw in the old Puritan's
+armour.  If the package were harmless his having opened it was
+still a matter that the discharge of his duty would sanction. 
+Thus he reasoned; and he resolved to break the seal and make
+himself master of the contents of that letter.
+
+Hogan's unpleasant laugh startled Kenneth.  It suggested to him
+that perhaps, after all, his delay was by no means at an end;
+that Hogan suspected him of something - he could not think of
+what.
+
+Then in a flash an idea came to him.
+
+"May I speak to you privately for a moment, Captain Hogan?" he
+inquired in such a tone of importance - imperiousness, almost -
+that the Irishman was impressed by it.  He scented disclosure.
+
+"Faith, you may if you have aught to tell me," and he signed to
+Beddoes and his companion to withdraw.
+
+"Now, Master Hogan," Kenneth began resolutely as soon as they
+were alone, "I ask you to let me go my way unmolested.  Too
+long already has the stupidity of your followers detained me
+here unjustly.  That I reach London by midnight is to me a
+matter of the gravest moment, and you shall let me."
+
+"Soul of my body, Mr. Stewart, what a spirit you have acquired
+since last we met."
+
+"In your place I should leave our last meeting unmentioned,
+master turncoat."
+
+The Irishman's eyebrows shot up.
+
+"By the Mass, young cockerel, I mislike your tone - "
+
+"You'll have cause to dislike it more if you detain me."  He
+was desperate now.  "What would your saintly, crop-eared
+friends say if they knew as much of your past history as I do?"
+
+"Tis a matter for conjecture," said Hogan, humouring him.
+
+"How think you would they welcome the story of the roystering
+rake and debauchee who deserted the army of King Charles
+because they were about to hang him for murder?"
+
+"Ah! how, indeed?" sighed Hogan.
+
+"What manner of reputation, think you, that for a captain of
+the godly army of the Commonwealth?"
+
+"A vile one, truly," murmured Hogan with humility.
+
+"And now, Mr. Hogan," he wound up loftily, "you had best return
+me that package, and be rid of me before I sow mischief enough
+to bring you a crop of hemp."
+
+Hogan stared at the lad's flushed face with a look of whimsical
+astonishment, and for a brief spell there was silence between
+them.  Slowly then, with his eyes still fixed upon Kenneth's,
+the captain unsheathed a dagger.  The boy drew back, with a
+sudden cry of alarm.  Hogan vented a horse-laugh, and ran the
+blade under the seal of Ashburn's letter.
+
+"Be not afraid, my man of threats," he said pleasantly.  "I
+have no thought of hurting you - leastways, not yet."  He
+paused in the act of breaking the seal.  "Lest you should
+treasure uncomfortable delusions, dear Master Stewart, let me
+remind you that I am an Irishman - not a fool.  Do you conceive
+my fame to be so narrow a thing that when I left the beggarly
+army of King Charles for that of the Commonwealth, I did not
+realize how at any moment I might come face to face with
+someone who had heard of my old exploits, and would denounce
+me?  You do not find me masquerading under an assumed name.  I
+am here, sir, as Harry Hogan, a sometime dissolute follower of
+the Egyptian Pharaoh, Charles Stuart; an erstwhile besotted,
+blinded soldier in the army of the Amalekite, a whilom erring
+malignant, but converted by a crowning mercy into a zealous,
+faithful servant of Israel.  There were vouchsafings and
+upliftings, and the devil knows what else, when this stray lamb
+was gathered to the fold."
+
+He uttered the words with a nasal intonation, and a whimsical
+look at Kenneth.
+
+"Now, Mr. Stewart, tell them what you will, and they will tell
+you yet more in return, to show you how signally the light of
+grace hath been shed over me."
+
+He laughed again, and broke the seal.  Kenneth, crestfallen and
+abashed, watched him, without attempting further interference. 
+Of what avail?
+
+"You had been better advised, young sir, had you been less
+hasty and anxious.  It is a fatal fault of youth's, and one of
+which nothing but time - if, indeed, you live - will cure you. 
+Your anxiety touching this package determines me to open it."
+
+Kenneth sneered at the man's conclusions, and, shrugging his
+shoulders, turned slightly aside.
+
+"Perchance, master wiseacres, when you have read it, you will
+appreciate how egotism may also lead men into fatal errors. 
+Haply, too, you will be able to afford Colonel Pride some
+satisfactory reason for tampering with his correspondence."
+
+But Hogan heard him not.  He had unfolded the letter, and at
+the first words he beheld, a frown contracted his brows.  As he
+read on the frown deepened, and when he had done, an oath broke
+from his lips.  "God's life!" he cried, then again was silent,
+and so stood a moment with bent head.  At last he raised his
+eyes, and let them rest long and searchingly upon Kenneth, who
+now observed him in alarm.
+
+"What - what is it?" the lad asked, with hesitancy.
+
+But Hogan never answered.  He strode past him to the door, and
+flung it wide.
+
+"Beddoes!" he called.  A step sounded in the passage, and the
+sergeant appeared.  "Have you a trooper there?"
+
+"There is Peter, who rode with me."
+
+"Let him look to this fellow.  Tell him to set him under lock
+and bolt here in the inn until I shall want him, and tell him
+that he shall answer for him with his neck."
+
+Kenneth drew back in alarm.
+
+"Sir - Captain Hogan - will you explain "
+
+"Marry, you shall have explanations to spare before morning,
+else I'm a fool.  But have no fear, for we intend you no hurt,"
+he added more softly.  "Take him away, Beddoes; then return to
+me here."
+
+When Beddoes came back from consigning Kenneth into the hands
+of his trooper, he found Hogan seated in the leathern
+arm-chair, with Ashburn's letter spread before him on the
+table.
+
+"I was right in my suspicions, eh?" ventured Beddoes
+complacently.
+
+"You were more than right, Beddoes, you were Heaven-inspired. 
+It is no State matter that you have chanced upon, but one that
+touches a man in whom I am interested very nearly."
+
+The sergeant's eyes were full of questions, but Hogan
+enlightened him no further.
+
+"You will ride back to your post at once, Beddoes," he
+commanded.  "Should Lord Oriel fall into your hands, as we
+hope, you will send him to me.  But you will continue to patrol
+the road, and demand the business of all comers.  I wish one
+Crispin Galliard, who should pass this way ere long, detained,
+and brought to me.  He is a tall, lank man - "
+
+"I know him, sir," Beddoes interrupted.  "The Tavern Knight
+they called him in the malignant army - a rakehelly, dissolute
+brawler.  I saw him in Worcester when he was taken after the
+fight."
+
+Hogan frowned.  The righteous Beddoes knew overmuch.  "That is
+the man," he answered calmly.  "Go now, and see that he does
+not ride past you.  I have great and urgent need of him."
+
+Beddoes' eyes were opened in surprise.
+
+"He is possessed of valuable information," Hogan explained. 
+"Away with you, man."
+
+When alone, Harry Hogan turned his arm-chair sideways towards
+the fire.  Then, filling himself a pipe - for in his foreign
+campaigning he had acquired the habit of tobacco-smoking - he
+stretched his sinewy legs across a second chair, and composed
+himself for meditation.  An hour went by; the host looked in to
+see if the captain required anything.  Another hour sped on,
+and the captain dozed.
+
+He awoke with a start.  The fire had burned low, and the hands
+of the huge clock in the corner pointed to midnight.  From the
+passage came to him the sound of steps and angry voices.
+
+Before Hogan could rise, the door was flung wide, and a tall,
+gaunt man was hustled across the threshold by two soldiers. 
+His head was bare, and his hair wet and dishevelled.  His
+doublet was torn and his shoulder bleeding, whilst his empty
+scabbard hung like a lambent tail behind him.
+
+"We have brought him, captain," one of the men announced.
+
+"Aye, you crop-eared, psalm-whining cuckolds, you've brought
+me, d -n you," growled Sir Crispin, whose eyes rolled fiercely.
+
+As his angry glance lighted upon Hogan's impressive face, he
+abruptly stemmed the flow of invective that rushed to his lips.
+
+The Irishman rose, and looked past him at the troopers.  "Leave
+us," he commanded shortly.
+
+He remained standing by the hearth until the footsteps of his
+men had died away, then he crossed the chamber, passed Crispin
+without a word, and quietly locked the door.  That done, he
+turned a friendly smile on his tanned face - and holding out
+his hand:
+
+"At last, Cris, it is mine to thank you and to repay you in
+some measure for the service you rendered me that night at
+Penrith."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXI
+
+THE MESSAGE KENNETH BORE
+
+
+In bewilderment Crispin took the outstretched hand of his old
+fellow-roysterer.
+
+"Oddslife," he growled, "if to have me waylaid, dragged from my
+horse and wounded by those sons of dogs, your myrmidons, be
+your manner of expressing gratitude, I'd as lief you had let me
+go unthanked."
+
+"And yet, Cris, I dare swear you'll thank me before another
+hour is sped.  Ough, man, how cold you are!  There's a bottle
+of strong waters yonder - "
+
+Then, without completing his sentence, Hogan had seized the
+black jack and poured half a glass of its contents, which he
+handed Crispin.
+
+"Drink, man," he said briefly, and Crispin, nothing loath,
+obeyed him.
+
+Next Hogan drew the torn and sodden doublet from his guest's
+back, pushed a chair over to the table, and bade him sit. 
+Again, nothing loath, Crispin did as he was bidden.  He was
+stiff from long riding, and so with a sigh of satisfaction he
+settled himself down and stretched out his long legs.
+
+Hogan slowly took the seat opposite to him, and coughed.  He
+was at a loss how to open the parlous subject, how to
+communicate to Crispin the amazing news upon which he had
+stumbled.
+
+"Slife' Hogan," laughed Crispin dreamily, "I little thought it
+was to you those crop-ears carried me with such violence.  I
+little thought, indeed, ever to see you again.  But you have
+prospered, you knave, since that night you left Penrith."
+
+And he turned his head the better to survey the Irishman.
+
+"Aye, I have prospered," Hogan assented.  "My life is a sort of
+parable of the fatted son and the prodigal calf.  They tell me
+there is greater joy in heaven over the repentance of a sinner
+than - than - Plague on it!  How does it go?"
+
+"Than over the downfall of a saint?" suggested Crispin.
+
+"I'll swear that's not the text, but any of my troopers could
+quote it you; every man of them is an incarnate Church
+militant."  He paused, and Crispin laughed softly.  Then
+abruptly: "And so you were riding to London?" said he.
+
+"How know you that?"
+
+"Faith, I know more - much more.  I can even tell you to what
+house you rode, and on what errand.  You were for the sign of
+the Anchor in Thames Street, for news of your son, whom Joseph
+Ashburn hath told you lives."
+
+Crispin sat bolt upright, a look of mingled wonder and
+suspicion on his face.
+
+"You are well informed, you gentlemen of the Parliament," he
+said.
+
+"On the matter of your errand," the Irishman returned quietly,
+"I am much better informed than are you.  Shall I tell you who
+lives at the sign of the Anchor - not whom you have been told
+lives there, but who really does occupy the house?"  Hogan
+paused a second as though awaiting some reply; then softly he
+answered his own question: "Colonel Pride."  And he sat back to
+await results.
+
+There were none.  For the moment the name awoke no
+recollections, conveyed no meaning to Crispin.
+
+"Who may Colonel Pride be?" he asked, after a pause.
+
+Hogan was visibly disappointed.
+
+"A certain powerful and vindictive member of the Rump, whose
+son you killed at Worcester."
+
+This time the shaft went home.  Galliard sprang out of the
+chair, his brows darkening, and his cheeks pale beyond their
+wont.
+
+"Zounds, Hogan, do you mean that Joseph Ashburn was betraying
+me into this man's hands?"
+
+"You have said it."
+
+"But - "
+
+Crispin stopped short.  The pallor of his face increased; it
+became ashen, and his eyes glittered as though a fever consumed
+him.  He sank back into his chair, and setting both hands upon
+the table before him, he looked straight at Hogan.
+
+"But my son, Hogan, my son?" he pleaded, and his voice was
+broken as no man had heard it yet.  "Oh, God in heaven!" he
+cried in a sudden frenzy.  "What hell's work is this?"
+
+Behind his blue lips his teeth were chattering now.  His hands
+shook as he held them, still clenched, before him.  Then, in a
+dull, concentrated voice:
+
+"Hogan," he vowed, "I'll kill him for it.  Fool, blind, pitiful
+fool that I am."
+
+Then - his face distorted by passion - he broke into a torrent
+of imprecations that was at length stemmed by Hogan.
+
+"Wait, Cris," said he, laying his hand upon the other's arm. 
+"It is not all false.  Joseph Ashburn sought, it is true, to
+betray you into the hands of Colonel Pride, sending you to the
+sign of the Anchor with the assurance that there you should
+have news of your son.  That was false; yet not all false. 
+Your son does live, and at the sign of the Anchor it is likely
+you would have had the news of him you sought.  But that news
+would have come when too late to have been of value to you."
+
+Crispin tried to speak, but failed.  Then, mastering himself by
+an effort, and in a voice that was oddly shaken:
+
+"Hogan," he cried, "you are torturing me! What is the sum of
+your knowledge?"
+
+At last the Irishman produced Ashburn's letter to Colonel
+Pride.
+
+"My men," said he, "are patrolling the roads in wait for a
+malignant that has incurred the Parliament's displeasure.  We
+have news that he is making for Harwich, where a vessel lies
+waiting to carry him to France, and we expect that he will ride
+this way.  Three hours ago a young man unable clearly to
+account for himself rode into our net, and was brought to me. 
+He was the bearer of a letter to Colonel Pride from Joseph
+Ashburn.  He had given my sergeant a wrong name, and betrayed
+such anxiety to be gone that I deemed his errand a suspicious
+one, and broke the seal of that letter.  You may thank God,
+Galliard, every night of your life that I did so."
+
+"Was this youth Kenneth Stewart?" asked Crispin.
+
+"You have guessed it."
+
+"D -n the lad," he began furiously.  Then repressing himself,
+he sighed, and in an altered tone, "No, no," said he.  "I have
+grievously wronged him! have wrecked his life - or at least he
+thinks so now.  I can hardly blame him for seeking to be quits
+with me."
+
+"The lad," returned Hogan, "must be himself a dupe.  He can
+have had no suspicion of the message he carried.  Let me read
+it to you; it will make all clear."
+
+Hogan drew a taper nearer, and spreading the paper upon the
+table, he smoothed it out, and read:
+
+HONOURED SIR,
+
+The bearer of the present should, if he rides well, outstrip
+another messenger I have dispatched to you upon a fool's
+errand, with a letter addressed to one Mr. Lane at the sign of
+the Anchor.  The bearer of that is none other than the
+notorious malignant, Sir Crispin Galliard, by whose hand your
+son was slain under your very eyes at Worcester, whose capture
+I know that you warmly desire and with whom I doubt not you
+will know how to deal.  To us he has been a source of no little
+molestation; his liberty, in fact, is a perpetual menace to our
+lives.  For some eighteen years this Galliard has believed dead
+a son that my cousin bore him.  News of this son, whom I have
+just informed him lives - as indeed he does - is the bait
+wherewith I have lured him to your address.  Forewarned by the
+present, I make no doubt you will prepare to receive him
+fittingly.  But ere that justice he escaped at Worcester be
+meted out to him at Tyburn or on Tower Hill, I would have you
+give him that news touching his son which I am sending him to
+you to receive.  Inform him, sir, that his son, Jocelyn
+Marleigh ...
+
+Hogan paused, and shot a furtive glance at Galliard.  The
+knight was leaning forward now, his eyes strained, his forehead
+beaded with perspiration, and his breathing heavy.
+
+"Read on," he begged hoarsely.
+
+His son, Jocelyn Marleigh, is the bearer of this letter, the
+man whom he has injured and who detests him, the youth with
+whom he has, by a curious chance, been in much close
+association, and whom he has known as Kenneth Stewart.
+
+"God!" gasped Crispin.  Then with sudden vigour, "Oh, 'tis a
+lie," he cried, "a fresh invention of that lying brain to
+torture me."
+
+Hogan held up his hand.
+
+"There is a little more," he said, and continued:
+
+Should he doubt this, bid him look closely into the lad's face,
+and ask him, after he has scrutinized it, what image it evokes. 
+Should he still doubt thereafter, thinking the likeness to
+which he has been singularly blind to be no more than
+accidental, bid them strip the lad's right foot.  It bears a
+mark that I think should convince him.  For the rest, honoured
+sir, I beg you to keep all information touching his parentage
+from the boy himself, wherein I have weighty ends to serve. 
+Within a few days of your receipt of this letter, I look to
+have the honour of waiting upon you.  In the meanwhile,
+honoured sir, believe that while I am, I am your obedient
+servant,
+
+                                               JOSEPH ASHBURN
+
+Across the narrow table the two men's glances met - Hogan's
+full of concern and pity, Crispin's charged with amazement and
+horror.  A little while they sat thus, then Crispin rose slowly
+to his feet, and with steps uncertain as a drunkard's he
+crossed to the window.  He pushed it open, and let the icy wind
+upon his face and head, unconscious of its sting.  Moments
+passed, during which the knight went over the last few months
+of his turbulent life since his first meeting at Perth with
+Kenneth Stewart.  He recalled how strangely and unaccountably
+he had been drawn to the boy when first he beheld him in the
+castle yard, and how, owing to a feeling for which he could not
+account, since the lad's character had little that might
+commend him to such a man as Crispin, he had contrived that
+Kenneth should serve in his company.
+
+He recalled how at first - aye, and often afterwards even - he
+had sought to win the boy's affection, despite the fact that
+there was naught in the boy that he truly admired, and much
+that he despised.  Was it possible that these his feelings were
+dictated by Nature to his unconscious mind?  It must indeed be
+so, and the written words of Joseph Ashburn to Colonel Pride
+were true.  Kenneth was indeed his son; the conviction was upon
+him.  He conjured up the lad's face, and a cry of discovery
+escaped him.  How blind he had been not to have seen before the
+likeness of Alice - his poor, butchered girl-wife of eighteen
+years ago.  How dull never before to have realized that that
+likeness it was had drawn him to the boy.
+
+He was calm by now, and in his calm he sought to analyse his
+thoughts, and he was shocked to find that they were not joyous. 
+He yearned - as he had yearned that night in Worcester - for
+the lad's affection, and yet, for all his yearning, he realized
+that with the conviction that Kenneth was his offspring came a
+dull sense of disappointment.  He was not such a son as the
+rakehelly knight would have had him.  Swiftly he put the
+thought from him.  The craven hands that had reared the lad had
+warped his nature; he would guide it henceforth; he would
+straighten it out into a nobler shape.
+
+Then he smiled bitterly to himself.  What manner of man was he
+to train a youth to loftiness and honour? - he, a debauched
+ruler with a nickname for which, had he any sense of shame, he
+would have blushed!  Again he remembered the lad's disposition
+towards himself; but these, he thought, he hoped, he knew that
+he would now be able to overcome.
+
+He closed the window, and turned to face his companion.  He was
+himself again, and calm, for all that his face was haggard
+beyond its wont.
+
+"Hogan, where is the boy?"
+
+"I have detained him in the inn.  Will you see him now?"
+
+"At once, Hogan.  I am convinced."
+
+The Irishman crossed the chamber, and opening the door he
+called an order to the trooper waiting in the passage.
+
+Some minutes they waited, standing, with no word uttered
+between them.  At last steps sounded in the corridor, and a
+moment later Kenneth was rudely thrust into the room.  Hogan
+signed to the trooper, who closed the door and withdrew.
+
+As Kenneth entered, Crispin advanced a step and paused, his
+eyes devouring the lad and receiving in exchange a glance that
+was full of malevolence.
+
+"I might have known, sir, that you were not far away," he
+exclaimed bitterly, forgetting for the moment how he had left
+Crispin behind him on the previous night.  "I might have
+guessed that my detention was your work."
+
+"Why so?" asked Crispin quietly, his eyes ever scanning the
+lad's face with a pathetic look.
+
+"Because it is your way, I know not why, to work my ruin in all
+things.  Not satisfied with involving me in that business at
+Castle Marleigh, you must needs cross my path again when I am
+about to make amends, and so blight my last chance.  My God,
+sir, am I never to be rid of you?  What harm have I done you?"
+
+A spasm of pain, like a ripple over water, crossed the knight's
+swart face.
+
+"If you but consider, Kenneth," he said, speaking very quietly,
+"you must see the injustice of your words.  Since when has
+Crispin Galliard served the Parliament, that Roundhead troopers
+should do his bidding as you suggest?  And touching that
+business at Sheringham you are over-hard with me.  It was a
+compact you made, and but for which, you forget that you had
+been carrion these three weeks."
+
+"Would to Heaven that I had been," the boy burst out, "sooner
+than pay such a price for keeping my life!"
+
+"As for my presence here," Crispin continued, leaving the
+outburst unheeded, "it has naught to do with your detention."
+
+"You lie!"
+
+Hogan caught his breath with a sharp hiss, and a dead silence
+followed.  That silence struck terror into Kenneth's heart.  He
+encountered Crispin's eye bent upon him with a look he could
+not fathom, and much would he now have given to recall the two
+words that had burst from him in the heat of his rage.  He
+bethought him of the unscrupulous, deadly character attributed
+to the man to whom he had addressed them, and in his coward's
+fancy he saw already payment demanded.  Already he pictured
+himself lying cold and stark in the streets of Waltham with a
+sword-wound through his middle.  His face went grey and his
+lips trembled.
+
+Then Galliard spoke at last, and the mildness of his tone
+filled Kenneth with a new dread.  In his experience of
+Crispin's ways he had come to look upon mildness as the man's
+most dangerous phase:
+
+"You are mistaken," Crispin said.  "I spoke the truth; it is a
+habit of mine - haply the only gentlemanly habit left me.  I
+repeat, I have had naught to do with your detention.  I arrived
+here half an hour ago, as the captain will inform you, and I
+was conducted hither by force, having been seized by his men,
+even as you were seized.  No," he added, with a sigh, "it was
+not my hand that detained you; it was the hand of Fate."  Then
+suddenly changing his voice to a more vehement key, "Know you
+on what errand you rode to London?" he demanded.  "To betray
+your father into the hands of his enemies; to deliver him up to
+the hangman."
+
+Kenneth's eyes grew wide; his mouth fell open, and a frown of
+perplexity drew his brows together.  Dully, uncomprehendingly
+he met Sir Crispin's sad gaze.
+
+"My father," he gasped at last.  "'Sdeath, sir, what is it you
+mean?  My father has been dead these ten years.  I scarce
+remember him."
+
+Crispin's lips moved, but no word did he utter.  Then with a
+sudden gesture of despair he turned to Hogan, who stood apart,
+a silent witness.
+
+"My God, Hogan," he cried.  "How shall I tell him?"
+
+In answer to the appeal, the Irishman turned to Kenneth.
+
+"You have been in error, sir, touching your parentage," quoth
+he bluntly.  "Alan Stewart, of Bailienochy, was not your
+father."
+
+Kenneth looked from one to the other of them.
+
+"Sirs, is this a jest?" he cried, reddening.  Then, remarking
+at length the solemnity of their countenances, he stopped
+short.  Crispin came close up to him, and placed a hand upon
+his shoulder.  The boy shrank visibly beneath the touch, and
+again an expression of pain crossed the poor ruffler's face.
+
+"Do you recall, Kenneth," he said slowly, almost sorrowfully,
+"the story that I told you that night in Worcester, when we sat
+waiting for dawn and the hangman?"
+
+The lad nodded vacantly.
+
+"Do you remember the details?  Do you remember I told you how,
+when I swooned beneath the stroke of Joseph Ashburn's sword,
+the last words I heard were those in which he bade his brother
+slit the throat of the babe in the cradle?  You were, yourself,
+present yesternight at Castle Marleigh when Joseph Ashburn told
+me Gregory had been mercifully inclined; that my child had not
+died; that if I gave him his life he would restore him to me. 
+You remember?"
+
+Again Kenneth nodded.  A vague, numbing fear was creeping round
+his heart, and his blood seemed chilled by it and stagnant. 
+With fascinated eyes he watched the knight's face - drawn and
+haggard.
+
+"It was a trap that Joseph Ashburn set for me.  Yet he did not
+altogether lie.  The child Gregory had indeed spared, and it
+seems from what I have learned within the last half-hour that
+he had entrusted his rearing to Alan Stewart, of Bailienochy,
+seeking afterwards - I take it - to wed him to his daughter, so
+that should the King come to his own again, they should have
+the protection of a Marleigh who had served his King."
+
+"You mean," the lad almost whispered, and his accents were
+unmistakably of horror, "you mean that I am your - Oh, God,
+I'll not believe it!" he cried out, with such sudden loathing
+and passion that Crispin recoiled as though he had been struck. 
+A dull flush crept into his cheeks to fade upon the instant and
+give place to a pallor, if possible, intenser than before.
+
+"I'll not believe it!  I'll not believe it!" the boy repeated,
+as if seeking by that reiteration to shut out a conviction by
+which he was beset.  "I'll not believe it!" he cried again; and
+now his voice had lost its passionate vehemence, and was sunk
+almost to a moan.
+
+"I found it hard to believe myself," was Crispin's answer, and
+his voice was not free from bitterness.  "But I have a proof
+here that seems incontestable, even had I not the proof of your
+face to which I have been blind these months.  Blind with the
+eyes of my body, at least.  The eyes of my soul saw and
+recognized you when first they fell on you in Perth.  The voice
+of the blood ordered me then to your side, and though I heard
+its call, I understood not what it meant.  Read this letter,
+boy - the letter that you were to have carried to Colonel
+Pride."
+
+With his eyes still fixed in a gaze of stupefaction upon
+Galliard's face, Kenneth took the paper.  Then slowly,
+involuntarily almost it seemed, he dropped his glance to it,
+and read.  He was long in reading, as though the writing
+presented difficulties, and his two companions watched him the
+while, and waited.  At last he turned the paper over, and
+examined seal and superscription as if suspicious that he held
+a forgery.
+
+But in some subtle, mysterious way - that voice of the blood
+perchance to which Crispin had alluded - he felt conviction
+stealing down upon his soul.  Mechanically he moved across to
+the table, and sat down.  Without a word, and still holding the
+crumpled letter in his clenched hand, he set his elbows on the
+table, and, pressing his temples to his palms, he sat there
+dumb.  Within him a very volcano raged, and its fires were fed
+with loathing - loathing for this man whom he had ever hated,
+yet never as he hated him now, knowing him to be his father. 
+It seemed as if to all the wrongs which Crispin had done him
+during the months of their acquaintanceship he had now added a
+fresh and culminating wrong by discovering this parentage.
+
+He sat and thought, and his soul grew sick.  He probed for some
+flaw, sought for some mistake that might have been made.  And
+yet the more he thought, the more he dwelt upon his youth in
+Scotland, the more convinced was he that Crispin had told him
+the truth.  Pre-eminent argument of conviction to him was the
+desire of the Ashburns that he should marry Cynthia.  Oft he
+had marvelled that they, wealthy, and even powerful, selfish
+and ambitious, should have selected him, the scion of an
+obscure and impoverished Scottish house, as a bridegroom for
+their daughter.  The news now before him made their motives
+clear; indeed, no other motive could exist, no other
+explanation could there be.  He was the heir of Castle
+Marleigh, and the usurpers sought to provide against the day
+when another revolution might oust them and restore the
+rightful owners.
+
+Some elation his shallow nature felt at realizing this, but
+that elation was short-lived, and dashed by the thought that
+this ruler, this debauchee, this drunken, swearing, roaring
+tavern knight was his father; dashed by the knowledge that
+meanwhile the Parliament was master, and that whilst matters
+stood so, the Ashburns could defy - could even destroy him, did
+they learn how much he knew; dashed by the memory that Cynthia,
+whom in his selfish way - out of his love for himself - he
+loved, vas lost to him for all time.
+
+And here, swinging in a circle, his thoughts reverted to the
+cause of this - Crispin Galliard, the man who had betrayed him
+into yesternight's foul business and destroyed his every chance
+of happiness; the man whom he hated, and whom, had he possessed
+the courage as he was possessed by the desire, he had risen up
+and slain; the man that now announced himself his father.
+
+And thinking thus, he sat on in silent, resentful vexation.  He
+started to feel a hand upon his shoulder, and to hear the voice
+of Galliard evidently addressing him, yet using a name that was
+new to him.
+
+"Jocelyn, my boy," the voice trembled.  "You have thought, and
+you have realized - is it not so?  I too thought, and thought
+brought me conviction that what that paper tells is true."
+
+Vaguely then the boy remembered that Jocelyn was the name the
+letter gave him.  He rose abruptly, and brushed the caressing
+hand from his shoulder.  His voice was hard - possibly the
+knowledge that he had gained told him that he had nothing to
+fear from this man, and in that assurance his craven soul grew
+brave and bold and arrogant.
+
+"I have realized naught beyond the fact that I owe you nothing
+but unhappiness and ruin.  By a trick, by a low fraud, you
+enlisted me into a service that has proved my undoing.  Once a
+cheat always a cheat.  What credit in the face of that can I
+give this paper?" he cried, talking wildly.  "To me it is
+incredible, nor do I wish to credit it, for though it were
+true, what then?  What then?" he repeated, raising his voice
+into accents of defiance.
+
+Grief and amazement were blended in Galliard's glance, and
+also, maybe, some reproach.
+
+Hogan, standing squarely upon the hearth, was beset by the
+desire to kick Master Kenneth, or Master Jocelyn, into the
+street.  His lip curled into a sneer of ineffable contempt, for
+his shrewd eyes read to the bottom of the lad's mean soul and
+saw there clearly writ the confidence that emboldened him to
+voice that insult to the man he must know for his father. 
+Standing there, he compared the two, marvelling deeply how they
+came to be father and son.  A likeness he saw now between them,
+yet a likeness that seemed but to mark the difference.  The one
+harsh, resolute, and manly, for all his reckless living and his
+misfortunes; the other mild, effeminate, hypocritical and
+shifty.  He read it not on their countenances alone, but in
+every line of their figures as they stood, and in his heart he
+cursed himself for having been the instrument to disclose the
+relationship in which they stood.
+
+The youth's insolent question was followed by a spell of
+silence.  Crispin could not believe that he had heard aright. 
+At last he stretched out his hands in a gesture of supplication
+- he who throughout his thirty-eight years of life, and despite
+the misfortunes that had been his, had never yet stooped to
+plead from any man.
+
+"Jocelyn," he cried, and the pain in his voice must have melted
+a heart of steel, "you are hard.  Have you forgotten the story
+of my miserable life, the story that I told you in Worcester? 
+Can you not understand how suffering may destroy all that is
+lofty in a man; how the forgetfulness of the winecup may come
+to be his only consolation; the hope of vengeance his only
+motive for living on, withholding him from self-destruction? 
+Can you not picture such a life, and can you not pity and
+forgive much of the wreck that it may make of a man once
+virtuous and honourable?"
+
+Pleadingly he looked into the lad's face.  It remained cold and
+unmoved.
+
+"I understand," he continued brokenly, "that I am not such a
+man as any lad might welcome for a father.  But you who know
+what my life has been, Jocelyn, you can surely find it in your
+heart to pity.  I had naught that was good or wholesome to live
+for, Jocelyn; naught to curb the evil moods that sent me along
+evil ways to seek forgetfulness and reparation.
+
+"But from to-night, Jocelyn, my life in you must find a new
+interest, a new motive.  I will abandon my old ways.  For your
+sake, Jocelyn, I will seek again to become what I was, and you
+shall have no cause to blush for your father."
+
+Still the lad stood silent.
+
+"Jocelyn!  My God, do I talk in vain?" cried the wretched man. 
+"Have you no heart, no pity, boy?"
+
+At last the youth spoke.  He was not moved.  The agony of this
+strong man, the broken pleading of one whom he had ever known
+arrogant and strong had no power to touch his mean, selfish
+mind, consumed as it was by the contemplation of his undoing -
+magnified a hundredfold - which this man had wrought.
+
+"You have ruined my life," was all he said.
+
+"I will rebuild it, Jocelyn," cried Galliard eagerly.  "I have
+friends in France - friends high in power who lack neither the
+means nor the will to aid me.  You are a soldier, Jocelyn."
+
+"As much a soldier as I'm a saint," sneered Hogan to himself.
+
+"Together we will find service in the armies of Louis," Crispin
+pursued.  "I promise it.  Service wherein you shall gain honour
+and renown.  There we will abide until this England shakes
+herself out of her rebellious nightmare.  Then, when the King
+shall come to his own, Castle Marleigh will be ours again. 
+Trust in me, Jocelyn."  Again his arms went out appealingly:
+"Jocelyn my son!"
+
+But the boy made no move to take the outstretched hands, gave
+no sign of relenting.  His mind nurtured its resentment -
+cherished it indeed.
+
+"And Cynthia?" he asked coldly.
+
+Crispin's hands fell to his sides; they grew clenched, and his
+eyes lighted of a sudden.
+
+"Forgive me, Jocelyn.  I had forgotten!  I understand you now. 
+Yes, I dealt sorely with you there, and you are right to be
+resentful.  What, after all, am I to you what can I be to you
+compared with her whose image fills your soul?  What is aught
+in the world to a man, compared with the woman on whom his
+heart is set?  Do I not know it?  Have I not suffered for it?
+
+"But mark me, Jocelyn" - and he straightened himself suddenly -
+"even in this, that which I have done I will undo.  As I have
+robbed you of your mistress, so will I win her back for you.  I
+swear it.  And when that is done, when thus every harm I have
+caused you is repaired, then, Jocelyn, perhaps you will come to
+look with less repugnance upon your father, and to feel less
+resentment towards him."
+
+"You promise much, sir," quoth the boy, with an illrepressed
+sneer.  "How will you accomplish it?"
+
+Hogan grunted audibly.  Crispin drew himself up, erect, lithe
+and supple - a figure to inspire confidence in the most
+despairing.  He placed a hand, nervous, and strong as steel,
+upon the boy's shoulder, and the clutch of his fingers made
+Jocelyn wince.
+
+"Low though your father be fallen," said he sternly, "he has
+never yet broken his word.  I have pledged you mine, and
+to-morrow I shall set out to perform what I have promised.  I
+shall see you ere I start.  You will sleep here, will you not?"
+
+Jocelyn shrugged his shoulders.
+
+"It signifies little where I lie."
+
+Crispin smiled sadly, and sighed.
+
+"You have no faith in me yet.  But I shall earn it, or" - and
+his voice fell suddenly - "or rid you of a loathsome parent. 
+Hogan, can you find him quarters?"
+
+Hogan replied that there was the room he had already been
+confined in, and that he could lie in it.  And deeming that
+there was nothing to be gained by waiting, he thereupon led the
+youth from the room and down the passage.  At the foot of the
+stairs the Irishman paused in the act of descending, and raised
+the taper aloft so that its light might fall full upon the face
+of his companion.
+
+"Were I your father," said he grimly, "I would kick you from
+one end of Waltham to the other by way of teaching you filial
+piety!  And were you not his son, I would this night read you a
+lesson you'd never live to practise.  I would set you to sleep
+a last long sleep in the kennels of Waltham streets.  But since
+you are - marvellous though it seem - his offspring, and since
+I love him and may not therefore hurt you, I must rest content
+with telling you that you are the vilest thing that breathes. 
+You despise him for a roysterer, for a man of loose ways.  Let
+me, who have seen something of men, and who read you to-night
+to the very dregs of your contemptible soul, tell you that
+compared with you he is a very god.  Come, you white-livered
+cur!" he ended abruptly.  "I will light you to your chamber."
+
+When presently Hogan returned to Crispin he found the Tavern
+Knight - that man of iron in whom none had ever seen a trace of
+fear or weakness seated with his arms before him on the table,
+and his face buried in them, sobbing like a poor, weak woman.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXII
+
+SIR CRISPIN'S UNDERTAKING
+
+
+Through the long October night Crispin and Hogan sat on, and
+neither sought his bed.  Crispin's quick wits his burst of
+grief once over - had been swift to fasten on a plan to
+accomplish that which he had undertaken.
+
+One difficulty confronted him, and until he had mentioned it to
+Hogan seemed unsurmountable he had need of a ship.  But in this
+the Irishman could assist him.  He knew of a vessel then at
+Greenwich, whose master was in his debt, which should suit the
+purpose.  Money, however, would be needed.  But when Crispin
+announced that he was master of some two hundred Caroluses,
+Hogan, with a wave of the hand, declared the matter settled. 
+Less than half that sum would hire the man he knew of.  That
+determined, Crispin unfolded his project to Hogan, who laughed
+at the simplicity of it, for all that inwardly he cursed the
+risk Sir Crispin must run for the sake of one so unworthy.
+
+"If the maid loves him, the thing is as good as done."
+
+"The maid does not love him; leastways, I fear not."
+
+Hogan was not surprised.
+
+"Why, then it will be difficult, well-nigh impossible."  And
+the Irishman became grave.
+
+But Crispin laughed unpleasantly.  Years and misfortune had
+made him cynical.
+
+"What is the love of a maid?" quoth he derisively.  "A caprice,
+a fancy, a thing that may be guided, overcome or compelled as
+the occasion shall demand.  Opportunity is love's parent,
+Hogan, and given that, any maid may love any man.  Cynthia
+shall love my son."
+
+"But if she prove rebellious?  If she say nay to your proposals
+? There are such women."
+
+"How then?  Am I not the stronger?  In such a case it shall be
+mine to compel her, and as I find her, so shall I carry her
+away.  It will be none so poor a vengeance on the Ashburns
+after all."  His brow grew clouded.  "But not what I had
+dreamed of; what I should have taken had he not cheated me.  To
+forgo it now - after all these years of waiting - is another
+sacrifice I make to Jocelyn.  To serve him in this matter I
+must proceed cautiously.  Cynthia may fret and fume and stamp,
+but willy-nilly I shall carry her away.  Once she is in France,
+friendless, alone, I make no doubt that she will see the
+convenience of loving Jocelyn - leastways of wedding him and
+thus shall I have more than repaired the injuries I have done
+him.
+
+The Irishman's broad face was very grave; his reckless merry
+eye fixed Galliard with a look of sorrow, and this grey-haired,
+sinning soldier of fortune, who had never known a conscience,
+muttered softly:
+
+"It is not a nice thing you contemplate, Cris."
+
+Despite himself, Galliard winced, and his glance fell before
+Hogan's.  For a moment he saw the business in its true light,
+and he wavered in his purpose.  Then, with a short bark of
+laughter:
+
+"Gadso, you are sentimental, Harry!" said he, to add, more
+gravely: "There is my son, and in this lies the only way to his
+heart.".
+
+Hogan stretched a hand across the table, and set it upon
+Crispin's arm.
+
+"Is he worth such a stain upon your honour, Crispin?"
+
+There was a pause.
+
+"Is it not late in the day, Hogan, for you and me to prate of
+honour?" asked Crispin bitterly, yet with averted gaze.  "God
+knows my honour is as like honour as a beggar's rags are like
+unto a cloak of ermine.  What signifies another splash, another
+rent in that which is tattered beyond all semblance of its
+original condition?"
+
+"I asked you," the Irishman persisted, "whether your son was
+worth the sacrifice that the vile deed you contemplate
+entails?"
+
+Crispin shook his arm from the other's grip, and rose abruptly. 
+He crossed to the window, and drew back the curtain.
+
+"Day is breaking," said he gruffly.  Then turning, and facing
+Hogan across the room, "I have pledged my word to Jocelyn," he
+said.  "The way I have chosen is the only one, and I shall
+follow it.  But if your conscience cries out against it, Hogan,
+I give you back your promise of assistance, and I shall shift
+alone.  I have done so all my life."
+
+Hogan shrugged his massive shoulders, and reached out for the
+bottle of strong waters.
+
+"If you are resolved, there is an end to it.  My conscience
+shall not trouble me, and upon what aid I have promised and
+what more I can give, you may depend.  I drink to the success
+of your undertaking."
+
+Thereafter they discussed the matter of the vessel that Crispin
+would require, and it was arranged between them that Hogan
+should send a message to the skipper, bidding him come to
+Harwich, and there await and place himself at the command of
+Sir Crispin Galliard.  For fifty pounds Hogan thought that he
+would undertake to land Sir Crispin in France.  The messenger
+might be dispatched forthwith, and the Lady Jane should be at
+Harwich, two days later.
+
+By the time they had determined upon this, the inmates of the
+hostelry were astir, and from the innyard came to them the
+noise of bustle and preparation for the day.
+
+Presently they left the chamber where they had sat so long, and
+at the yard pump the Tavern Knight performed a rude morning
+toilet.  Thereafter, on a simple fare of herrings and brown
+ale, they broke their fast; and ere that meal was done,
+Kenneth, pale and worn, with dark circles round his eyes,
+entered the common room, and sat moodily apart.  But when later
+Hogan went to see to the dispatching of his messenger, Crispin
+rose and approached the youth.
+
+Kenneth watched him furtively, without pausing in his meal.  He
+had spent a very miserable night pondering over the future,
+which looked gloomy enough, and debating whether - forgetting
+and ignoring what had passed - he should return to the genteel
+poverty of his Scottish home, or accept the proffered service
+of this man who announced himself - and whom he now believed -
+to be his father.  He had thought, but he was far from having
+chosen between Scotland and France, when Crispin now greeted
+him, not without constraint.
+
+"Jocelyn," he said, speaking slowly, almost humbly.  "In an
+hour's time I shall set out to return to Marleigh to fulfil my
+last night's promise to you.  How I shall accomplish it I
+scarce know as yet; but accomplish it I shall.  I have arranged
+to have a vessel awaiting me, and within three days - or four
+at the most - I look to cross to France, bearing your bride
+with me."
+
+He paused for some reply, but none came.  The boy sat on with
+an impassive face, his eyes glued to the table, but his mind
+busy enough upon that which his father was pouring into his
+ear.  Presently Crispin continued:
+
+"You cannot refuse to do as I suggest, Jocelyn.  I shall make
+you the fullest amends for the harm that I have done you, if
+you but obey my directions.  You must quit this place as soon
+as possible, and proceed on your way to London.  There you must
+find a boat to carry you to France, and you will await me at
+the Auberge du Soleil at Calais.  You are agreed, Jocelyn?"
+
+There was a slight pause, and Jocelyn took his resolution.  Yet
+there was still a sullen look in the eyes he lifted to his
+father's face.
+
+"I have little choice, sir," he made answer, "and so I must
+agree.  If you accomplish what you promise, I own that you will
+have made amends, and I shall crave your pardon for my
+yesternight's want of faith.  I shall await you at Calais."
+
+Crispin sighed, and for a second his face hardened.  It was not
+the answer to which he held himself entitled, and for a moment
+it rose to the lips of this man of fierce and sudden moods to
+draw back and let the son, whom at the moment he began to
+detest, go his own way, which assuredly would lead him to
+perdition.  But a second's thought sufficed to quell that mood
+of his.
+
+"I shall not fail you," he said coldly.  "Have you money for
+the journey?"
+
+The boy flushed as he remembered that little was left of what
+Joseph Ashburn had given him.  Crispin saw the flush, and
+reading aright its meaning, he drew from his pocket a purse
+that he had been fingering, and placed it quietly upon the
+table.  "There are fifty Caroluses in that bag.  That should
+suffice to carry you to France.  Fare you well until we meet at
+Calais."
+
+And without giving the boy time to utter thanks that might be
+unwilling, he quickly left the room.
+
+Within the hour he was in the saddle, and his horse's head was
+turned northwards once more.
+
+He rode through Newport some three hours later without drawing
+rein.  By the door of the Raven Inn stood a travelling
+carriage, upon which he did not so much as bestow a look.
+
+By the merest thread hangs at times the whole of a man's future
+life, the destinies even of men as yet unborn.  So much may
+depend indeed upon a glance, that had not Crispin kept his eyes
+that morning upon the grey road before him, had he chanced to
+look sideways as he passed the Raven Inn at Newport, and seen
+the Ashburn arms displayed upon the panels of that coach, he
+would of a certainty have paused.  And had he done so, his
+whole destiny would assuredly have shaped a different course
+from that which he was unconsciously steering.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIII
+
+GREGORY'S ATTRITION
+
+
+Joseph's journey to London was occasioned by his very natural
+anxiety to assure himself that Crispin was caught in the toils
+of the net he had so cunningly baited for him, and that at
+Castle Marleigh he would trouble them no more.  To this end he
+quitted Sheringham on the day after Crispin's departure.
+
+Not a little perplexed was Cynthia at the topsy-turvydom in
+which that morning she had found her father's house.  Kenneth
+was gone; he had left in the dead of night, and seemingly in
+haste and suddenness, since on the previous evening there had
+been no talk of his departing.  Her father was abed with a
+wound that made him feverish.  Their grooms were all sick, and
+wandered in a dazed and witless fashion about the castle, their
+faces deadly pale and their eyes lustreless.  In the hall she
+had found a chaotic disorder upon descending, and one of the
+panels of the wainscot she saw was freshly cracked.
+
+Slowly the idea forced itself upon her mind that there had been
+brawling the night before, yet was she far from surmising the
+motives that could have led to it.  The conclusion she came to
+in the end was that the men had drunk deep, that in their cups
+they had waxed quarrelsome, and that swords had been drawn.
+
+Of Joseph then she sought enlightenment, and Joseph lied right
+handsomely, like the ready-witted knave he was.  A wondrously
+plausible story had he for her ear; a story that played
+cunningly upon her knowledge of the compact that existed
+between Kenneth and Sir Crispin.
+
+"You may not know,' said he - full well aware that she did know
+- "that when Galliard saved Kenneth's life at Worcester he
+exacted from the lad the promise that in return Kenneth should
+aid him in some vengeful business he had on hand."
+
+Cynthia nodded that she understood or that she knew, and glibly
+Joseph pursued:
+
+"Last night, when on the point of departing, Crispin, who had
+drunk over-freely, as is his custom, reminded Kenneth of his
+plighted word, and demanded of the boy that he should upon the
+instant go forth with him.  Kenneth replied that the hour was
+overlate to be setting out upon a journey, and he requested
+Galliard to wait until to-day, when he would be ready to fulfil
+what he had promised.  But Crispin retorted that Kenneth was
+bound by his oath to go with him when he should require it, and
+again he bade the boy make ready at once.  Words ensued between
+them, the boy insisting upon waiting until to-day, and Crispin
+insisting upon his getting his boots and cloak and coming with
+him there and then.  More heated grew the argument, till in the
+end Galliard, being put out of temper, snatched at his sword,
+and would assuredly have spitted the boy had not your father
+interposed, thereby getting himself wounded.  Thereafter, in
+his drunken lust Sir Crispin went the length of wantonly
+cracking that panel with his sword by way of showing Kenneth
+what he had to expect unless he obeyed him.  At that I
+intervened, and using my influence, I prevailed upon Kenneth to
+go with Galliard as he demanded.  To this, for all his
+reluctance, Kenneth ended by consenting, and so they are gone."
+
+By that most glib and specious explanation Cynthia was
+convinced.  True, she added a question touching the amazing
+condition of the grooms, in reply to which Joseph afforded her
+a part of the truth.
+
+"Sir Crispin sent them some wine, and they drank to his
+departure so heartily that they are not rightly sober yet."
+
+Satisfied with this explanation Cynthia repaired to her father.
+
+Now Gregory had not agreed with Joseph what narrative they were
+to offer Cynthia, for it had never crossed his dull mind that
+the disorder of the hall and the absence of Kenneth might cause
+her astonishment.  And so when she touched upon the matter of
+his wound, like the blundering fool he was, he must needs let
+his tongue wag upon a tale which, if no less imaginative than
+Joseph's, was vastly its inferior in plausibility and had yet
+the quality of differing from it totally in substance.
+
+"Plague on that dog, your lover, Cynthia," he growled from the
+mountain of pillows that propped him.  "If he should come to
+wed my daughter after pinning me to the wainscot of my own hall
+may I be for ever damned."
+
+"How?" quoth she.  "Do you say that Kenneth did it?"
+
+"Aye, did he.  He ran at me ere I could draw, like the coward
+he is, sink him, and had me through the shoulder in the
+twinkling of an eye."
+
+Here was something beyond her understanding.  What were they
+concealing from her?  She set her wits to the discovery and
+plied her father with another question.
+
+"How came you to quarrel?"
+
+"How? 'Twas - 'twas concerning you, child," replied Gregory at
+random, and unable to think of a likelier motive.
+
+"How, concerning me?"
+
+"Leave me, Cynthia," he groaned in despair.  "Go, child.  I am
+grievously wounded.  I have the fever, girl.  Go; let me
+sleep."
+
+"But tell me, father, what passed."
+
+"Unnatural child," whined Gregory feebly, "will you plague a
+sick man with questions?  Would you keep him from the sleep
+that may mean recovery to him?"
+
+"Father, dear," she murmured softly, "if I thought it was as
+you say, I would leave you.  But you know that you are but
+attempting to conceal something from me something that I should
+know, that I must know.  Bethink you that it is of my lover
+that you have spoken."
+
+By a stupendous effort Gregory shaped a story that to him
+seemed likely.
+
+"Well, then, since know you must," he answered, "this is what
+befell: we had all drunk over-deep to our shame do I confess it
+- and growing tenderhearted for you, and bethinking me of your
+professed distaste to Kenneth's suit, I told him that for all
+the results that were likely to attend his sojourn at Castle
+Marleigh, he might as well bear Crispin company in his
+departure.  He flared up at that, and demanded of me that I
+should read him my riddle.  Faith, I did by telling him that we
+were like to have snow on midsummer's day ere he 'became your
+husband.  That speech of mine so angered him, being as he was
+all addled with wine and ripe for any madness, that he sprang
+up and drew on me there and then.  The others sought to get
+between us, but he was over-quick, and before I could do more
+than rise from the table his sword was through my shoulder and
+into the wainscot at my back.  After that it was clear he could
+not remain here, and I demanded that he should leave upon the
+instant.  Himself he was nothing loath, for he realized his
+folly, and he misliked the gleam of Joseph's eye - which can be
+wondrous wicked upon occasion.  Indeed, but for my intercession
+Joseph had laid him stark."
+
+That both her uncle and her father had lied to her - the one
+cunningly, the other stupidly - she had never a doubt, and
+vaguely uneasy was Cynthia to learn the truth.  Later that day
+the castle was busy with the bustle of Joseph's departure, and
+this again was a matter that puzzled her.
+
+"Whither do you journey, uncle?" she asked of him as he was in
+the act of stepping out to enter the waiting carriage.
+
+"To London, sweet cousin," was his brisk reply.  "I am, it
+seems, becoming a very vagrant in my old age.  Have you
+commands for me?"
+
+"What is it you look to do in London?"
+
+"There, child, let that be for the present.  I will tell you
+perhaps when I return.  The door, Stephen."
+
+She watched his departure with uneasy eyes and uneasy heart.  A
+fear pervaded her that in all that had befallen, in all that
+was befalling still - what ever it might be - some evil was at
+work, and an evil that had Crispin for its scope.  She had
+neither reason nor evidence from which to draw this inference. 
+It was no more than the instinct whose voice cries out to us at
+times a presage of ill, and oftentimes compels our attention in
+a degree far higher than any evidence could command.
+
+The fear that was in her urged her to seek what information she
+could on every hand, but without success.  From none could she
+cull the merest scrap of evidence to assist her.
+
+But on the morrow she had information as prodigal as it was
+unlooked-for, and from the unlikeliest of sources - her father
+himself.  Chafing at his inaction and lured into indiscretions
+by the subsiding of the pain of his wound, Gregory quitted his
+bed and came below that night to sup with his daughter.  As his
+wont had been for years, he drank freely.  That done, alive to
+the voice of his conscience, and seeking to drown its loud-
+tongued cry, he drank more freely still, so that in the end his
+henchman, Stephen, was forced to carry him to bed.
+
+This Stephen had grown grey in the service of the Ashburns, and
+amongst much valuable knowledge that he had amassed, was a
+skill in dealing with wounds and a wide understanding of the
+ways to go about healing them.  This knowledge made him realize
+how unwise at such a season was Gregory's debauch, and
+sorrowfully did he wag his head over his master's condition of
+stupor.
+
+Stephen had grave fears concerning him, and these fears were
+realized when upon the morrow Gregory awoke on fire with the
+fever.  They summoned a leech from Sheringham, and this cunning
+knave, with a view to adding importance to the cure he was come
+to effect, and which in reality presented no alarming
+difficulty, shook his head with ominous gravity, and whilst
+promising to do "all that his skill permitted, he spoke of a
+clergyman to help Gregory make his peace with God.  For the
+leech had no cause to suspect that the whole of the Sacred
+College might have found the task beyond its powers.
+
+A wild fear took Gregory in its grip.  How could he die with
+such a load as that which he now carried upon his soul?  And
+the leech, seeing how the matter preyed upon his patient's
+mind, made shift - but too late - to tranquillize him with
+assurances that he was not really like to die, and that he had
+but mentioned a parson so that Gregory in any case should be
+prepared.
+
+The storm once raised, however, was not so easily to be
+allayed, and the conviction remained with Gregory that his
+sands were well-nigh run, and that the end could be but a
+matter of days in coming.
+
+Realizing as he did how richly he had earned damnation, a
+frantic terror was upon him, and all that day he tossed and
+turned, now blaspheming, now praying, now weeping.  His life
+had been indeed one protracted course of wrong-doing, and many
+had suffered by Gregory's evil ways - many a man and many a
+woman.  But as the stars pale and fade when the sun mounts the
+sky, so too were the lesser wrongs that marked his earthly
+pilgrimage of sin rendered pale or blotted into insignificance
+by the greater wrong he had done Ronald Marleigh - a wrong
+which was not ended yet, but whose completion Joseph was even
+then working to effect.  If only he could save Crispin even now
+in the eleventh hour; if by some means he could warn him not to
+repair to the sign of the Anchor in Thames Street.  His
+disordered mind took no account of the fact that in the time
+that was sped since Galliard's departure, the knight should
+already have reached London.
+
+And so it came about that, consumed at once by the desire to
+make confession to whomsoever it might be, and the wish to
+attempt yet to avert the crowning evil of whose planning he was
+partly guilty inasmuch as he had tacitly consented to Joseph's
+schemes, Gregory called for his daughter.  She came readily
+enough, hoping for exactly that which was about to take place,
+yet fearing sorely that her hopes would suffer frustration, and
+that she would learn nothing from her father.
+
+"Cynthia," he cried, in mingled dread and sorrow, "Cynthia, my
+child, I am about to die."
+
+She knew both from Stephen and from the leech that this was far
+from being his condition.  Nevertheless her filial piety was at
+that moment a touching sight.  She smoothed his pillows with a
+gentle grace that was in itself a soothing caress, even as her
+soft sympathetic voice was a caress.  She took his hand, and
+spoke to him endearingly, seeking to relieve the sombre mood
+whose prey he was become, assuring him that the leech had told
+her his danger was none so imminent, and that with quiet and a
+little care he would be up and about again ere many days were
+sped.  But Gregory rejected hopelessly all efforts at
+consolation.
+
+"I am on my death-bed, Cynthia," he insisted, "and when I am
+gone I know not whom there may be to cheer and comfort your lot
+in life.  Your lover is away on an errand of Joseph's, and it
+may well betide that he will never again cross the threshold of
+Castle Marleigh.  Unnatural though I may seem, sweetheart, my
+dying wish is that this may be so."
+
+She looked up in some surprise.
+
+"Father, if that be all that grieves you, I can reassure you. 
+I do not love Kenneth."
+
+"You apprehend me amiss," said he tartly.  "Do you recall the
+story of Sir Crispin Galliard's life that you had from Kenneth
+on the night of Joseph's return?"  His voice shook as he put
+the question.
+
+"Why, yes.  I am not like to forget it, and nightly do I pray,"
+she went on, her tongue outrunning discretion and betraying her
+feelings for Galliard, "that God may punish those murderers who
+wrecked his existence."
+
+"Hush, girl," he whispered in a quavering voice.  "You know not
+what you say."
+
+"Indeed I do; and as there is a just God my prayer shall be
+answered."
+
+"Cynthia," he wailed.  His eyes were wild, and the hand that
+rested in hers trembled violently.  "Do you know that it is
+against your father and your father's brother that you invoke
+God's vengeance?"
+
+She had been kneeling at his bedside; but now, when he
+pronounced those words, she rose slowly and stood silent for a
+spell, her eyes seeking his with an awful look that he dared
+not meet.  At last:
+
+"Oh, you rave," she protested, "it is the fever."
+
+"Nay, child, my mind is clear, and what I have said is true."
+
+"True?" she echoed, no louder than a whisper, and her eyes grew
+round with horror.  "True that you and my uncle are the
+butchers who slew their cousin, this man's wife, and sought to
+murder him as well - leaving him for dead?  True that you are
+the thieves who claiming kinship by virtue of that very
+marriage have usurped his estates and this his castle during
+all these years, whilst he himself went an outcast, homeless
+and destitute?  Is that what you ask me to believe?"
+
+"Even so," he assented, with a feeble sob.
+
+Her face was pale - white to the very lips, and her blue eyes
+smouldered behind the shelter of her drooping lids.  She put
+her hand to her breast, then to her brow, pushing back the
+brown hair by a mechanical gesture that was pathetic in the
+tale of pain it told.  For support she was leaning now against
+the wall by the head of his couch.  In silence she stood so
+while you might count to twenty; then with a sudden vehemence
+revealing the passion of anger and grief that swayed her:
+
+"Why," she cried, "why in God's name do you tell me this?"
+
+"Why?"  His utterance was thick, and his eyes, that were grown
+dull as a snake's, stared straight before him, daring not to
+meet his daughter's glance.  "I tell it you," he said, "because
+I am a dying man."  And he hoped that the consideration of that
+momentous fact might melt her, and might by pity win her back
+to him - that she was lost to him he realized.
+
+"I tell you because I am a dying man," he repeated.  "I tell it
+you because in such an hour I fain would make confession and
+repent, that God may have mercy upon my soul.  I tell it you,
+too, because the tragedy begun eighteen years ago is not yet
+played out, and it may yet be mine to avert the end we had
+prepared - Joseph and I.  Thus perhaps a merciful God will
+place it in my power to make some reparation.  Listen, child. 
+It was against us, as you will have guessed, that Galliard
+enlisted Kenneth's services, and here on the night of Joseph's
+return he called upon the boy to fulfil him what he had sworn. 
+The lad had no choice but to obey; indeed, I forced him to it
+by attacking him and compelling him to draw, which is how I
+came by this wound.
+
+"Crispin had of a certainty killed Joseph but that your uncle
+bethought him of telling him that his son lived."
+
+"He saved his life by a lie!  That was worthy of him," said
+Cynthia scornfully.
+
+"Nay, child, he spoke the truth, and when Joseph offered to
+restore the boy to him, he had every intention of so doing. 
+But in the moment of writing the superscription to the letter
+Crispin was to bear to those that had reared the child, Joseph
+bethought him of a foul scheme for Galliard's final
+destruction.  And so he has sent him to London instead, to a
+house in Thames Street, where dwells one Colonel Pride, who
+bears Sir Crispin a heavy grudge, and into whose hands he will
+be thus delivered.  Can aught be done, Cynthia, to arrest this
+- to save Sir Crispin from Joseph's snare?"
+
+"As well might you seek to restore the breath to a dead man,"
+she answered, and her voice was so oddly calm, so cold and bare
+of expression, that Gregory shuddered to hear it.
+
+"Do not delude yourself," she added.  "Sir Crispin will have
+reached London long ere this, and by now Joseph will be well on
+his way to see that there is no mistake made, and that the life
+you ruined hopelessly years ago is plucked at last from this
+unfortunate man.  Merciful God! am I truly your daughter?" she
+cried.  "Is my name indeed Ashburn, and have I been reared upon
+the estates that by crime you gained possession of?  Estates
+that by crime you hold - for they are his; every stone, every
+stick that goes to make the place belongs to him, and now he
+has gone to his death by your contriving."
+
+A moan escaped her, and she covered her face with her hands.  A
+moment she stood rocking there - a fair, lissom plant swept by
+a gale of ineffable emotion.  Then the breath seemed to go all
+out of her in one great sigh, and Gregory, who dared not look
+her way, heard the swish of her gown, followed by a thud as she
+collapsed and lay swooning on the ground.
+
+So disturbed at that was Gregory's spirit that, forgetting his
+wound, his fever, and the death which he had believed
+impending, he leapt from his couch, and throwing wide the door,
+bellowed lustily for Stephen.  In frightened haste came his
+henchman to answer the petulant summons, and in obedience to
+Gregory's commands he went off again as quickly in quest of
+Catherine - Cynthia's woman.
+
+Between them they bore the unconscious girl to her chamber,
+leaving Gregory to curse himself for having been lured into a
+confession that it now seemed to him had been unnecessary,
+since in his newly found vitality he realized that death was
+none so near a thing as that scoundrelly fool of a leech had
+led him to believe.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIV
+
+THE WOOING OF CYNTHIA
+
+
+Cynthia's swoon was after all but brief.  Upon recovering
+consciousness her first act was to dismiss her woman.  She had
+need to be alone - the need of the animal that is wounded to
+creep into its lair and hide itself.  And so alone with her
+sorrow she sat through that long day.
+
+That her father's condition was grievous she knew to be untrue,
+so that concerning him there was not even that pity that she
+might have felt had she believed - as he would have had her
+believe that he was dying.
+
+As she pondered the monstrous disclosure he had made, her heart
+hardened against him, and even as she had asked him whether
+indeed she was his daughter, so now she vowed to herself that
+she would be his daughter no longer.  She would leave Castle
+Marleigh, never again to set eyes upon her father, and she
+hoped that during the little time she must yet remain there - a
+day, or two at most - she might be spared the ordeal of again
+meeting a parent for whom respect was dead, and who inspired
+her with just that feeling of horror she must have for any man
+who confessed himself a murderer and a thief.
+
+She resolved to repair to London to a sister of her mother's,
+where for her dead mother's sake she would find a haven
+extended readily.
+
+At eventide she came at last from her chamber.
+
+She had need of air, need of the balm that nature alone can
+offer in solitude to poor wounded human souls.
+
+It was a mild and sunny evening, worthy rather of August than
+of October, and aimlessly Mistress Cynthia wandered towards the
+cliffs overlooking Sheringham Hithe.  There she sate herself in
+sad dejection upon the grass, and gazed wistfully seaward, her
+mind straying now from the sorry theme that had held dominion
+in it, to the memories that very spot evoked.
+
+It was there, sitting as she sat now, her eyes upon the
+shimmering waste of sea, and the gulls circling overhead, that
+she had awakened to the knowledge of her love for Crispin.  And
+so to him strayed now her thoughts, and to the fate her father
+had sent him to; and thus back again to her father and the evil
+he had wrought.  It is matter for conjecture whether her
+loathing for Gregory would have been as intense as it was, had
+another than Crispin Galliard been his victim.
+
+Her life seemed at an end as she sat that October evening on
+the cliffs.  No single interest linked her to existence;
+nothing, it seemed, was left her to hope for till the end
+should come - and no doubt it would be long in coming, for time
+moves slowly when we wait.
+
+Wistful she sat and thought, and every thought begat a sigh,
+and then of a sudden - surely her ears had tricked her,
+enslaved by her imagination - a crisp, metallic voice rang out
+close behind her.
+
+"Why are we pensive, Mistress Cynthia?"
+
+There was a catch in her breath as she turned her head.  Her
+cheeks took fire, and for a second were aflame.  Then they went
+deadly white, and it seemed that time and life and the very
+world had paused in its relentless progress towards eternity. 
+For there stood the object of her thoughts and sighs, sudden
+and unexpected, as though the earth had cast him up on to her
+surface.
+
+His thin lips were parted in a smile that softened wondrously
+the harshness of his face, and his eyes seemed then to her
+alight with kindness.  A moment's pause there was, during which
+she sought her voice, and when she had found it, all that she
+could falter was:
+
+"Sir, how came you here?  They told me that you rode to
+London."
+
+"Why, so I did.  But on the road I chanced to halt, and having
+halted I discovered reason why I should return."
+
+He had discovered a reason.  She asked herself breathlessly
+what might that reason be, and finding herself no answer to the
+question, she put it next to him.
+
+He drew near to her before replying.  "May I sit with you
+awhile, Cynthia?"
+
+She moved aside to make room for him, as though the broad cliff
+had been a narrow ledge, and with the sigh of a weary man
+finding a resting-place at last, he sank down beside her.
+
+There was a tenderness in his voice that set her pulses
+stirring wildly.  Did she guess aright the reason that had
+caused him to break his journey and return?  That he had done
+so - no matter what the reason - she thanked God from her
+inmost heart, as for a miracle that had saved him from the doom
+awaiting him in London town.
+
+"Am I presumptuous, child, to think that haply the meditation
+in which I found you rapt was for one, unworthy though he be,
+who went hence but some few days since?"
+
+The ambiguous question drove every thought from her mind,
+filling it to overflowing with the supreme good of his
+presence, and the frantic hope that she had read aright the
+reason of it.
+
+"Have I conjectured rightly?" he asked, since she kept silence.
+
+"Mayhap you have," she whispered in return, and then,
+marvelling at her boldness, blushed.  He glanced sharply at her
+from narrowing eyes.  It was not the answer he had looked to
+hear.
+
+As a father might have done he took the slender hand that
+rested upon the grass beside him, and she, poor child,
+mistaking the promptings of that action, suffered it to lie in
+his strong grasp.  With averted head she gazed upon the sea
+below, until a mist of tears rose up to blot it out.  The
+breeze seemed full of melody and gladness.  God was very good
+to her, and sent her in her hour of need this great consolation
+- a consolation indeed that must have served to efface whatever
+sorrow could have beset her.
+
+"Why then, sweet lady, is my task that I had feared to find all
+fraught with difficulty, grown easy indeed."
+
+And hearing him pause:
+
+"What task is that, Sir Crispin?" she asked, intent on helping
+him.
+
+He did not reply at once.  He found it difficult to devise an
+answer.  To tell her brutally that he was come to bear her
+away, willing or unwilling, on behalf of another, was not easy. 
+Indeed, it was impossible, and he was glad that inclinations in
+her which he had little dreamt of, put the necessity aside.
+
+"My task, Mistress Cynthia, is to bear you hence.  To ask you
+to resign this peaceful life, this quiet home in a little
+corner of the world, and to go forth to bear life's hardships
+with one who, whatever be his shortcomings, has the
+all-redeeming virtue of loving you beyond aught else in life."
+
+He gazed intently at her as he spoke, and her eyes fell before
+his glance.  He noted the warm, red blood suffusing her cheeks,
+her brow, her very neck; and he could have laughed aloud for
+joy at finding so simple that which he had feared would prove
+so hard.  Some pity, too, crept unaccountably into his stern
+heart, fathered by the little faith which in his inmost soul he
+reposed in Jocelyn.  And where, had she resisted him, he would
+have grown harsh and violent, her acquiescence struck the
+weapons from his hands, and he caught himself well-nigh warning
+her against accompanying him.
+
+"It is much to ask," he said.  "But love is selfish, and love
+asks much."
+
+"No, no," she protested softly, "it is not much to ask.  Rather
+is it much to offer."
+
+At that he was aghast.  Yet he continued:
+
+"Bethink you, Mistress Cynthia, I have ridden back to
+Sheringham to ask you to come with me into France, where my son
+awaits us?"
+
+He forgot for the moment that she was in ignorance of his
+relationship to him he looked upon as her lover, whilst she
+gave this mention of his son, of whose existence she had
+already heard from her; father, little thought at that moment. 
+The hour was too full of other things that touched her more
+nearly.
+
+"I ask you to abandon the ease and peace of Sheringham for a
+life as a soldier's bride that may be rough and precarious for
+a while, though, truth to tell, I have some influence at the
+Luxembourg, and friends upon whose assistance I can safely
+count, to find your husband honourable employment, and set him
+on the road to more.  And how, guided by so sweet a saint, can
+he but mount to fame and honour?"
+
+She spoke no word, but the hand resting in his entwined his
+fingers in an answering pressure.
+
+"Dare I then ask so much?" cried he.  And as if the ambiguity
+which had marked his speech were not enough, he must needs, as
+he put this question, bend in his eagerness towards her until
+her brown tresses touched his swart cheek.  Was it then strange
+that the eagerness wherewith he urged another's suit should
+have been by her interpreted as her heart would have had it?
+
+She set her hands upon his shoulders, and meeting his eager
+gaze with the frank glance of the maid who, out of trust, is
+fearless in her surrender:
+
+"Throughout my life I shall thank God that you have dared it,"
+she made answer softly.
+
+A strange reply he deemed it, yet, pondering, he took her
+meaning to be that since Jocelyn had lacked the courage to woo
+boldly, she was glad that he had sent an ambassador less timid.
+
+A pause followed, and for a spell they sat silent, he thinking
+of how to frame his next words; she happy and content to sit
+beside him without speech.
+
+She marvelled somewhat at the strangeness of his wooing, which
+was like unto no wooing her romancer's tales had told her of,
+but then she reflected how unlike he was to other men, and
+therein she saw the explanation.
+
+"I wish," he mused, "that matters were easier; that it might be
+mine to boldly sue your hand from your father, but it may not
+be.  Even had events not fallen out as they have done, it had
+been difficult; as it is, it is impossible."
+
+Again his meaning was obscure, and when he spoke of suing for
+her hand from her father, he did not think of adding that he
+would have sued it for his son.
+
+"I have no father," she replied.  "This very day have I
+disowned him."  And observing the inquiry with which his eyes
+were of a sudden charged: "Would you have me own a thief, a
+murderer, my father?" she demanded, with a fierceness of
+defiant shame.
+
+"You know, then?" he ejaculated.
+
+"Yes," she answered sorrowfully, "I know all there is to be
+known.  I learnt it all this morning.  All day have I pondered
+it in my shame to end in the resolve to leave Sheringham.  I
+had intended going to London to my mother's sister.  You are
+very opportunely come."  She smiled up at him through the tears
+that were glistening in her eyes.  "You come even as I was
+despairing - nay, when already I had despaired."
+
+Sir Crispin was no longer puzzled by the readiness of her
+acquiescence.  Here was the explanation of it.  Forced by the
+honesty of her pure soul to abandon the house of a father she
+knew at last for what he was, the refuge Crispin now offered
+her was very welcome.  She had determined before he came to
+quit Castle Marleigh, and timely indeed was his offer of the
+means of escape from a life that was grown impossible.  A great
+pity filled his heart.  She was selling herself, he thought;
+accepting the proposal which, on his son's behalf, he made, and
+from which at any other season, he feared, she would have
+shrunk in detestation.
+
+That pity was reflected on his countenance now, and noting its
+solemnity, and misconstruing it, she laughed outright, despite
+herself.  He did not ask her why she laughed, he did not notice
+it; his thoughts were busy already upon another matter.
+
+When next he spoke, it was to describe to her the hollow of the
+road where on the night of his departure from the castle he had
+been flung from his horse.  She knew the spot, she told him,
+and there at dusk upon the following day she would come to him. 
+Her woman must accompany her, and for all that he feared such
+an addition to the party might retard their flight, yet he
+could not gainsay her resolution.  Her uncle, he learnt from
+her, was absent from Sheringham; he had set out four days ago
+for London.  For her father she would leave a letter, and in
+this matter Crispin urged her to observe circumspection, giving
+no indication of the direction of her journey.
+
+In all he said, now that matters were arranged he was calm,
+practical, and unloverlike, and for all that she would he had
+been less self-possessed, her faith in him caused her, upon
+reflection, even to admire this which she conceived to be
+restraint.  Yet, when at parting he did no more than
+courteously bend before her, and kiss her hand as any simpering
+gallant might have done, she was all but vexed, and not to be
+outdone in coldness, she grew frigid.  But it was lost upon
+him.  He had not a lover's discernment, quickened by anxious
+eyes that watch for each flitting change upon his mistress's
+face.
+
+They parted thus, and into the heart of Mistress Cynthia there
+crept that night a doubt that banished sleep.  Was she wise in
+entrusting herself so utterly to a man of whom she knew but
+little, and that learnt from rumours which had not been good? 
+But scarcely was it because of that that doubts assailed her. 
+Rather was it because of his cool deliberateness which argued
+not the great love wherewith she fain would fancy him inspired.
+
+For consolation she recalled a line that had it great fires
+were soon burnt out, and she sought to reassure herself that
+the flame of his love, if not all-consuming, would at least
+burn bright and steadfastly until the end of life.  And so she
+fell asleep, betwixt hope and fear, yet no longer with any
+hesitancy touching the morrow's course.
+
+In the morning she took her woman into her confidence, and
+scared her with it out of what little sense the creature owned. 
+Yet to such purpose did she talk, that when that evening, as
+Crispin waited by the coach he had taken, in the hollow of the
+road, he saw approaching him a portly, middle-aged dame with a
+valise.  This was Cynthia's woman, and Cynthia herself was not
+long in following, muffled in a long, black cloak.
+
+He greeted her warmly - affectionately almost yet with none of
+the rapture to which she held herself entitled as some little
+recompense for all that on his behalf she left behind.
+
+Urbanely he handed her into the coach, and, after her, her
+woman.  Then seeing that he made shift to close the door:
+
+"How is this?" she cried.  "Do you not ride with us?"
+
+He pointed to a saddled horse standing by the roadside, and
+which she had not noticed.
+
+"It will be better so.  You will be at more comfort in the
+carriage without me.  Moreover, it will travel the lighter and
+the swifter, and speed will prove our best friend."
+
+He closed the door, and stepped back with a word of command to
+the driver.  The whip cracked, and Cynthia flung herself back
+almost in a pet.  What manner of lover, she asked herself, was
+thin and what manner of woman she, to let herself be borne away
+by one who made so little use of the arts and wiles of sweet
+persuasion?  To carry her off, and yet not so much as sit
+beside her, was worthy only of a man who described such a
+journey as tedious.  She marvelled greatly at it, yet more she
+marvelled at herself that she did not abandon this mad
+undertaking.
+
+The coach moved on and the flight from Sheringham was begun.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXV
+
+
+CYNTHIA'S FLIGHT
+
+
+Throughout the night they went rumbling on their way at a pace
+whose sluggishness elicited many an oath from Crispin as he
+rode a few yards in the rear, ever watchful of the possibility
+of pursuit.  But there was none, nor none need he have feared,
+since whilst he rode through the cold night, Gregory Ashburn
+slept as peacefully as a man may with the fever and an evil
+conscience, and imagined his dutiful daughter safely abed.
+
+With the first streaks of steely light came a thin rain to
+heighten Crispin's discomfort, for of late he had been overmuch
+in the saddle, and strong though he was, he was yet flesh and
+blood, and subject to its ills.  Towards ten o'clock they
+passed through Denham.  When they were clear of it Cynthia put
+her head from the window.  She had slept well, and her mood was
+lighter and happier.  As Crispin rode a yard or so behind, he
+caught sight of her fresh, smiling face, and it affected him
+curiously.  The tenderness that two days ago had been his as he
+talked to her upon the cliffs was again upon him, and the
+thought that anon she would be linked to him by the ties of
+relationship, was pleasurable.  She gave him good morrow
+prettily, and he, spurring his horse to the carriage door, was
+solicitous to know of her comfort.  Nor did he again fall
+behind until Stafford was reached at noon.  Here, at the sign
+of the Suffolk Arms, he called a halt, and they broke their
+fast on the best the house could give them.
+
+Cynthia was gay, and so indeed was Crispin, yet she noted in
+him that coolness which she accounted restraint, and gradually
+her spirits sank again before it.
+
+To Crispin's chagrin there were no horses to be had.  Someone
+in great haste had ridden through before them, and taken what
+relays the hostelry could give, leaving four jaded beasts in
+the stable.  It seemed, indeed, that they must remain there
+until the morrow, and in coming to that conclusion, Sir
+Crispin's temper suffered sorely.
+
+"Why need it put you so about," cried Cynthia, in arch
+reproach, "since I am with you?"
+
+"Blood and fire, madam," roared Galliard, "it is precisely for
+that reason that I am exercised.  What if your father came upon
+us here?"
+
+"My father, sir, is abed with a sword-wound and a fever," she
+replied, and he remembered then how Kenneth had spitted Gregory
+through the shoulder.
+
+"Still," he returned, "he will have discovered your flight, and
+I dare swear we shall have his myrmidons upon our heels. 
+Should they come up with us we shall hardly find them more
+gentle than he would be."
+
+She paled at that, and for a second there was silence.  Then
+her hand stole forth upon his arm, and she looked at him with
+tightened lips and a defiant air.
+
+"What, indeed, if they do?  Are you not with me?"  A king had
+praised his daring, and for his valour had dubbed him knight
+upon a field of stricken battle; yet the honour of it had not
+brought him the elation those words - expressive of her utter
+faith in him and his prowess - begat in his heart.  Upon the
+instant the delay ceased to fret him.
+
+"Madam," he laughed, "since you put it so, I care not who
+comes.  The Lord Protector himself shall not drag you from me."
+
+It was the nearest he had gone to a passionate speech since
+they had left Sheringham, and it pleased her; yet in uttering
+it he had stood a full two yards away, and in that she had
+taken no pleasure.
+
+Bidding her remain and get what rest she might, he left her,
+and she, following his straight, lank figure - so eloquent of
+strength - and the familiar poise of his left hand upon the
+pummel of his sword, felt proud indeed that he belonged to her,
+and secure in his protection.  She sat herself at the window
+when he was gone, and whilst she awaited his return, she hummed
+a gay measure softly to herself.  Her eyes were bright, and
+there was a flush upon her cheeks.  Not even in the wet, greasy
+street could she find any unsightliness that afternoon.  But as
+she waited, and the minutes grew to hours, that flush faded,
+and the sparkle died gradually from her eyes.  The measure that
+she had hummed was silenced, and her shapely mouth took on a
+pout of impatience, which anon grew into a tighter mould, as he
+continued absent.
+
+A frown drew her brows together, and Mistress Cynthia's
+thoughts were much as they had been the night before she left
+Castle Marleigh.  Where was he?  Why came he not?  She took up
+a book of plays that lay upon the table, and sought to while
+away the time by reading.  The afternoon faded into dusk, and
+still he did not come.  Her woman appeared, to ask whether she
+should call for lights and at that Cynthia became almost
+violent
+
+"Where is Sir Crispin?" she demanded.  And to the dame's
+quavering answer that she knew not, she angrily bade her go
+ascertain.
+
+In a pet, Cynthia paced the chamber whilst Catherine was gone
+upon that errand.  Did this man account her a toy to while away
+the hours for which he could find no more profitable diversion,
+and to leave her to die of ennui when aught else offered?  Was
+it a small thing that he had asked of her, to go with him into
+a strange land, that he should show himself so little sensible
+of the honour done him?
+
+With such questions did she plague herself, and finding them
+either unanswerable, or answerable only by affirmatives, she
+had well-nigh resolved upon leaving the inn, and making her way
+back to London to seek out her aunt, when the door opened and
+her woman reappeared.
+
+"Well?" cried Cynthia, seeing her alone.  "Where is Sir
+Crispin?"
+
+"Below, madam."
+
+"Below?" echoed she.  "And what, pray, doth he below?"
+
+"He is at dice with a gentleman from London."
+
+In the dim light of the October twilight the woman saw not the
+sudden pallor of her mistress's cheeks, but she heard the gasp
+of pain that was almost a cry.  In her mortification, Cynthia
+could have wept had she given way to her feelings.  The man who
+had induced her to elope with him sat at dice with a gentleman
+from London!  Oh, it was monstrous!  At the thought of it she
+broke into a laugh that appalled her tiring-woman; then
+mastering her hysteria, she took a sudden determination.
+
+"Call me the host," she cried, and the frightened Catherine
+obeyed her at a run.
+
+When the landlord came, bearing lights, and bending his aged
+back obsequiously:
+
+"Have you a pillion?" she asked abruptly.  "Well, fool, why do
+you stare?  Have you a pillion?"
+
+"I have, madam."
+
+"And a knave to ride with me, and a couple more as escort?"
+
+"I might procure them, but - "
+
+"How soon?"
+
+"Within half an hour, but - "
+
+"Then go see to it," she broke in, her foot beating the ground
+impatiently.
+
+"But, madam - "
+
+"Go, go, go!" she cried, her voice rising at each utterance of
+that imperative.
+
+"But, madam," the host persisted despairingly, and speaking
+quickly so that he might get the words out, "I have no horses
+fit to travel ten miles."
+
+"I need to go but five," she retorted quickly, her only thought
+being to get the beasts, no matter what their condition.  "Now,
+go, and come not back until all is ready.  Use dispatch and I
+will pay you well, and above all, not a word to the gentleman
+who came hither with me."
+
+The sorely-puzzled host withdrew to do her bidding, won to it
+by her promise of good payment.
+
+Alone she sat for half an hour, vainly fostering the hope that
+ere the landlord returned to announce the conclusion of his
+preparations, Crispin might have remembered her and come.  But
+he did not appear, and in her solitude this poor little maid
+was very miserable, and shed some tears that had still more of
+anger than sorrow in their source.  At length the landlord
+came.  She summoned her woman, and bade her follow by post on
+the morrow.  The landlord she rewarded with a ring worth twenty
+times the value of the service, and was led by him through a
+side door into the innyard.
+
+Here she found three horses, one equipped with the pillion on
+which she was to ride behind a burly stableboy.  The other two
+were mounted by a couple of stalwart and well-armed men, one of
+whom carried a funnel-mouthed musketoon with a swagger that
+promised prodigies of valour.
+
+Wrapped in her cloak, she mounted behind the stable-boy, and
+bade him set out and take the road to Denham.  Her dream was at
+an end.
+
+Master Quinn, the landlord, watched her departure with eyes
+that were charged with doubt and concern.  As he made fast the
+door of the stableyard after she had passed out, he ominously
+shook his hoary head and muttered to himself humble,
+hostelry-flavoured philosophies touching the strange ways of
+men with women, and the stranger ways of women with men.  Then,
+taking up his lanthorn, he slowly retraced his steps to the
+buttery where his wife was awaiting him.
+
+With sleeves rolled high above her pink and deeply-dimpled
+elbows stood Mistress Quinn at work upon the fashioning of a
+pastry, when her husband entered and set down his lanthorn with
+a sigh.
+
+"To be so plagued," he growled.  "To be browbeaten by a slip of
+a wench - a fine gentleman's baggage with the airs and vapours
+of a lady of quality.  Am I not a fool to have endured it?"
+
+"Certainly you are a fool," his wife agreed, kneading
+diligently, "whatever you may have endured.  What now?"
+
+His fat face was puckered into a thousand wrinkles.  His little
+eyes gazed at her with long-suffering malice.
+
+"You are my wife," he answered pregnantly, as who would say:
+Thus is my folly clearly proven! and seeing that the assertion
+was not one that admitted of dispute, Mistress Quinn was
+silent.
+
+"Oh, 'tis ill done!" he broke out a moment later.  "Shame on me
+for it; it is ill done!"
+
+"If you have done it 'tis sure to be ill done, and shame on you
+in good sooth - but for what?" put in his wife.
+
+"For sending those poor jaded beasts upon the road."
+
+"What beasts?"
+
+"What beasts?  Do I keep turtles?  My horses, woman."
+
+"And whither have you sent them?"
+
+"To Denham with the baggage that came hither this morning in
+the company of that very fierce gentleman who was in such a pet
+because we had no horses."
+
+"Where is he?" inquired the hostess.
+
+"At dice with those other gallants from town."
+
+"At dice quotha?  And she's gone, you say?" asked Mrs. Quinn,
+pausing in her labours squarely to face her husband.
+
+"Aye," said he.
+
+"Stupid!" rejoined his docile spouse, vexed by his laconic
+assent.  "Do you mean she has run away?"
+
+"Tis what anyone might take from what I have told you," he
+answered sweetly.
+
+"And you have lent her horses and helped her to get away, and
+you leave her husband at play in there?"
+
+"You have seen her marriage lines, I make no doubt," he sneered
+irrelevantly.
+
+"You dolt!  If the gentleman horsewhips you, you will have
+richly earned it."
+
+"Eh?  What?" gasped he, and his rubicund cheeks lost something
+of their high colour, for here was a possibility that had not
+entered into his calculations.  But Mistress Quinn stayed not
+to answer him.  Already she was making for the door, wiping the
+dough from her hands on to her apron as she went.  A suspicion
+of her purpose flashed through her husband's mind.
+
+"What would you do?" he inquired nervously.
+
+"Tell the gentleman what has taken place."
+
+"Nay," he cried, resolutely barring her way.  "Nay.  That you
+shall not.  Would you - would you ruin me?"
+
+She gave him a look of contempt, and dodging his grasp she
+gained the door and was half-way down the passage towards the
+common room before he had overtaken her and caught her round
+the middle.
+
+"Are you mad, woman?" he shouted.  "Will you undo me?"
+
+"Do you undo me," she bade him, snatching at his hands.  But he
+clutched with the tightness of despair.
+
+"You shall not go," he swore.  "Come back and leave the
+gentleman to make the discovery for himself.  I dare swear it
+will not afflict him overmuch.  He has abandoned her sorely
+since they came; not a doubt of it but that he is weary of her. 
+At least he need not know I lent her horses.  Let him think she
+fled a-foot, when he discovers her departure."
+
+"I will go," she answered stubbornly, dragging him with her a
+yard or two nearer the door.  "The gentleman shall be warned. 
+Is a woman to run away from her husband in my house, and the
+husband never be warned of it?"
+
+"I promised her," he began.
+
+"What care I for your promises?" she asked.  "I will tell him,
+so that he may yet go after her and bring her back."
+
+"You shall not," he insisted, gripping her more closely.  But
+at that moment a delicately mocking voice greeted their ears.
+
+"Marry, 'tis vastly diverting to hear you," it said.  They
+looked round, to find one of the party of town sparks that had
+halted at the inn standing arms akimbo in the narrow passage,
+clearly waiting for them to make room.  "A touching sight,
+sir," said he sardonically to the landlord.  "A wondrous
+touching sight to behold a man of your years playing the
+turtle-dove to his good wife like the merest fledgeling.  It
+grieves me to intrude myself so harshly upon your cooing,
+though if you'll but let me pass you may resume your chaste
+embrace without uneasiness, for I give you my word I'll never
+look behind me."
+
+Abashed, the landlord and his dame fell apart.  Then, ere the
+gentleman could pass her, Mistress Quinn, like a true
+opportunist, sped swiftly down the passage and into the common
+room before her husband could again detain her.
+
+Now, within the common room of the Suffolk Arms Sir Crispin sat
+face to face with a very pretty fellow, all musk and ribbons,
+and surrounded by some half-dozen gentlemen on their way to
+London who had halted to rest at Stafford.
+
+The pretty gentleman swore lustily, affected a monstrous wicked
+look, assured that he was impressing all who stood about with
+some conceit of the rakehelly ways he pursued in town.
+
+A game started with crowns to while away the tedium of the
+enforced sojourn at the inn had grown to monstrous proportions. 
+Fortune had favoured the youth at first, but as the stakes grew
+her favours to him diminished, and at the moment that Cynthia
+rode out of the inn-yard, Mr. Harry Foster flung his last gold
+piece with an oath upon the table.
+
+"Rat me," he groaned, "there's the end of a hundred."
+
+He toyed sorrowfully with the red ribbon in his black hair, and
+Crispin, seeing that no fresh stake was forthcoming, made shift
+to rise.  But the coxcomb detained him.
+
+"Tarry, sir," he cried, "I've not yet done.  'Slife, we'll make
+a night of it."
+
+He drew a ring from his finger, and with a superb gesture of
+disdain pushed it across the board.
+
+"What'll ye stake?" And, in the same breath, "Boy, another
+stoup," he cried.
+
+Crispin eyed the gem carelessly.
+
+"Twenty Caroluses," he muttered.
+
+"Rat me, sir, that nose of yours proclaims you a jew, without
+more.  Say twenty-five, and I'll cast."
+
+With a tolerant smile, and the shrug of a man to whom
+twenty-five or a hundred are of like account, Crispin
+consented.  They threw; Crispin passed and won.
+
+"What'll ye stake?" cried Mr.  Foster, and a second ring
+followed the first.
+
+Before Crispin could reply, the door leading to the interior of
+the inn was flung open, and Mrs. Quinn, breathless with
+exertion and excitement, came scurrying across the room.  In
+the doorway stood the host in hesitancy and fear.  Bending to
+Crispin's ear, Mrs. Quinn delivered her message in a whisper
+that was heard by most of those who were about.
+
+"Gone!" cried Crispin in consternation.
+
+The woman pointed to her husband, and Crispin, understanding
+from this that she referred him to the host, called to him.
+
+"What know you, landlord?" he shouted.  "Come hither, and tell
+me whither is she gone!"
+
+"I know not," replied the quaking host, adding the particulars
+of Cynthia's departure, and the information that the lady
+seemed in great anger.
+
+"Saddle me a horse," cried Crispin, leaping to his feet, and
+pitching Mr. Foster's trinket upon the table as though it were
+a thing of no value.  "Towards Denham you say they rode? 
+Quick, man!"  And as the host departed he swept the gold and
+the ring he had won into his pockets preparing to depart.
+
+"Hoity toity!" cried Mr. Foster.  "What sudden haste is this?"
+
+"I am sorry, sir, that Fortune has been unkind to you, but I
+must go.  Circumstances have arisen which - "
+
+"D -n your circumstances!" roared Foster, get ting on his feet. 
+"You'll not leave me thus!"
+
+"With your permission, sir, I will."
+
+"But you shall not have my permission!"
+
+"Then I shall be so unfortunate as to go without it.  But I
+shall return."
+
+"Sir, 'tis an old legend, that!"
+
+Crispin turned about in despair.  To be embroiled now might
+ruin everything, and by a miracle he kept his temper.  He had a
+moment to spare while his horse was being saddled.
+
+"Sir," he said, "if you have upon your pretty person trinkets
+to half the value of what I have won from you, I'll stake the
+whole against them on one throw, after which, no matter what
+the result, I take my departure.  Are you agreed?"
+
+There was a murmur of admiration from those present at the
+recklessness and the generosity of the proposal, and Foster was
+forced to accept it.  Two more rings he drew forth, a diamond
+from the ruffles at his throat, and a pearl that he wore in his
+ear.  The lot he set upon the board, and Crispin threw the
+winning cast as the host entered to say that his horse was
+ready.
+
+He gathered the trinkets up, and with a polite word of regret
+he was gone, leaving Mr. Harry Foster to meditate upon the
+pledging of one of his horses to the landlord in discharge of
+his lodging.
+
+And so it fell out that before Cynthia had gone six miles along
+the road to Denham, one of her attendants caught a rapid beat
+of hoofs behind them, and drew her attention to it, suggesting
+that they were being followed.  Faster Cynthia bade them
+travel, but the pursuer gained upon them at every stride. 
+Again the man drew her attention to it, and proposed that they
+should halt and face him who followed.  The possession of the
+musketoon gave him confidence touching the issue.  But Cynthia
+shuddered at the thought, and again, with promises of rich
+reward, urged them to go faster.  Another mile they went, but
+every moment brought the pursuing hoof-beats nearer and nearer,
+until at last a hoarse challenge rang out behind them, and they
+knew that to go farther would be vain; within the next
+half-mile, ride as they might, their pursuer would be upon
+them.
+
+The night was moonless, yet sufficiently clear for objects to
+be perceived against the sky, and presently the black shadow of
+him who rode behind loomed up upon the road, not a hundred
+paces off.
+
+Despite Cynthia's orders not to fire, he of the musketoon
+raised his weapon under cover of the darkness and blazed at the
+approaching shadow.
+
+Cynthia cried out - a shriek of dismay it was; the horses
+plunged, and Sir Crispin laughed aloud as he bore down upon
+them.  He of the musketoon heard the swish of a sword being
+drawn, and saw the glitter of the blade in the dark.  A second
+later there was a shock as Crispin's horse dashed into his, and
+a crushing blow across the forehead, which Galliard delivered
+with the hilt of his rapier, sent him hurtling from the saddle. 
+His comrade clapped spurs to his horse at that and was running
+a race with the night wind in the direction of Denham.
+
+Before Cynthia quite knew what had happened the seat on the
+pillion in front of her was empty, and she was riding back to
+Stafford with Crispin beside her, his hand upon the bridle of
+her horse.
+
+"You little fool!" he said half-angrily, half-gibingly; and
+thereafter they rode in silence - she too mortified with shame
+and anger to venture upon words.
+
+That journey back to Stafford was a speedy one, and soon they
+stood again in the inn-yard out of which she had ridden but an
+hour ago.  Avoiding the common room, Crispin ushered her
+through the side door by which she had quitted the house.  The
+landlord met them in the passage, and looking at Crispin's face
+the pallor and fierceness of it drove him back without a word.
+
+Together they ascended to the chamber where in solitude she had
+spent the day.  Her feelings were those of a child caught in an
+act of disobedience, and she was angry with herself and her
+weakness that it should be so.  Yet within the room she stood
+with bent head, never glancing at her companion, in whose eyes
+there was a look of blended anger and amazement as he observed
+her.  At length in calm, level tones:
+
+"Why did you run away?" he asked.
+
+The question was to her anger as a gust of wind to a
+smouldering fire.  She threw back her head defiantly, and fixed
+him with a glance as fierce as his own.
+
+"I will tell you," she cried, and suddenly stopped short.  The
+fire died from her eyes, and they grew wide in wonder - in
+fascinated wonder - to see a deep stain overspreading one side
+of his grey doublet, from the left shoulder downwards.  Her
+wonder turned to horror as she realized the nature of that
+stain and remembered that one of her men had fired upon him.
+
+"You are wounded?" she faltered.
+
+A sickly smile came into his face, and seemed to accentuate its
+pallor.  He made a deprecatory gesture.  Then, as if in that
+gesture he had expended his last grain of strength, he swayed
+suddenly as he stood.  He made as if to reach a chair, but at
+the second step he stumbled, and without further warning he
+fell prone at her feet, his left hand upon his heart, his right
+outstretched straight from the shoulder.  The loss of blood he
+had sustained, following upon the fatigue and sleeplessness
+that had been his of late, had demanded its due from him, man
+of iron though he was.
+
+Upon the instant her anger vanished.  A great fear that he was
+dead descended upon her, and to heighten the horror of it came
+the thought that he had received his death-wound through her
+agency.  With a moan of anguish she went down upon her knees
+beside him.  She raised his head and pillowed it in her lap,
+calling to him by name, as though her voice alone must suffice
+to bring him back to life and consciousness.  Instinctively she
+unfastened his doublet at the neck, and sought to draw it away
+that she might see the nature of his hurt and staunch the wound
+if possible, but her strength ebbed away from her, and she
+abandoned her task, unable to do more than murmur his name.
+
+"Crispin, Crispin, Crispin!"
+
+She stooped and kissed the white, clammy forehead, then his
+lips, and as she did so a tremor ran through her, and he opened
+his eyes.  A moment they looked dull and lifeless, then they
+waxed questioning.
+
+A second ago these two had stood in anger with the width of the
+room betwixt them; now, in a flash, he found his head on her
+lap, her lips on his.  How came he there?  What meant it?
+
+"Crispin, Crispin," she cried, "thank God you did but swoon!"
+
+Then the awakening of his soul came swift upon the awakening of
+his body.  He lay there, oblivious of his wound, oblivious of
+his mission, oblivious of his son.  He lay with senses still
+half dormant and comprehension dulled, but with a soul alert he
+lay, and was supremely happy with a happiness such as he had
+never known in all his ill-starred life.
+
+In a feeble voice he asked:
+
+"Why did you run away?"
+
+"Let us forget it," she answered softly.
+
+"Nay - tell me first."
+
+"I thought - I thought - " she stammered; then, gathering
+courage, "I thought you did not really care, that you made a
+toy of me," said she.  "When they told me that you sat at dice
+with a gentleman from London I was angry at your neglect.  If
+you loved me, I told myself, you would not have used me so, and
+left me to mope alone."
+
+For a moment Crispin let his grey eyes devour her blushing
+face.  Then he closed them and pondered what she had said,
+realization breaking upon him now like a great flood.  The
+light came to him in one blinding yet all-illuming flash.  A
+hundred things that had puzzled him in the last two days grew
+of a sudden clear, and filled him with a joy unspeakable.  He
+dared scarce believe that he was awake, and Cynthia by him -
+that he had indeed heard aright what she had said.  How blind
+he had been, how nescient of himself!
+
+Then, as his thoughts travelled on to the source of the
+misapprehension he remembered his son, and the memory was like
+an icy hand upon his temples that chilled him through and
+through.  Lying there with eyes still closed he groaned. 
+Happiness was within his grasp at last.  Love might be his
+again did he but ask it, and the love of as pure and sweet a
+creature as ever God sent to chasten a man's life.  A great
+tenderness possessed him.  A burning temptation to cast to the
+winds his plighted word, to make a mock of faith, to deride
+honour, and to seize this woman for his own.  She loved him he
+knew it now; he loved her - the knowledge had come as suddenly
+upon him.  Compared with this what could his faith, his word,
+his honour give him?  What to him, in the face of this, was
+that paltry fellow, his son, who had spurned him!
+
+The hardest fight he ever fought, he fought it there, lying
+supine upon the ground, his head in her lap.
+
+Had he fought it out with closed eyes, perchance honour and his
+plighted word had won the day; but he opened them, and they met
+Cynthia's.
+
+A while they stayed thus; the hungry glance of his grey eyes
+peering into the clear blue depths of hers; and in those depths
+his soul was drowned, his honour stifled.
+
+"Cynthia,' he cried, "God pity me, I love you!"  And he swooned
+again.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVI
+
+TO FRANCE
+
+
+That cry, which she but half understood, was still ringing in
+her ears, when the door was of a sudden flung open, and across
+the threshold a very daintily arrayed young gentleman stepped
+briskly, the expostulating landlord following close upon his
+heels.
+
+"I tell thee, lying dog," he cried, "I saw him ride into the
+yard, and, "fore George, he shall give me the chance of mending
+my losses.  Be off to your father, you Devil's natural."
+
+Cynthia looked up in alarm, whereupon that merry blood catching
+sight of her, halted in some confusion at what he saw.
+
+"Rat me, madam," he cried, "I did not know - I had not looked
+to - "  He stopped, and remembering at last his manners he made
+her a low bow.
+
+"Your servant, madam," said he, "your servant Harry Foster."
+
+She gazed at him, her eyes full of inquiry, but said nothing,
+whereat the pretty gentleman plucked awkwardly at his ruffles
+and wished himself elsewhere.
+
+"I did not know, madam, that your husband was hurt."
+
+"He is not my husband, sir," she answered, scarce knowing what
+she said.
+
+"Gadso!" he ejaculated.  "Yet you ran away from him?"
+
+Her cheeks grew crimson.
+
+"The door, sir, is behind you."
+
+"So, madam, is that thief the landlord," he made answer, no
+whit abashed.  "Come hither, you bladder of fat, the gentleman
+is hurt."
+
+Thus courteously summoned, the landlord shuffled forward, and
+Mr. Foster begged Cynthia to allow him with the fellow's aid to
+see to the gentleman's wound.  Between them they laid Crispin
+on a couch, and the town spark went to work with a dexterity
+little to have been expected from his flippant exterior.  He
+dressed the wound, which was in the shoulder and not in itself
+of a dangerous character, the loss of blood it being that had
+brought some gravity to the knight's condition.  They propped
+his head upon a pillow, and presently he sighed and, opening
+his eyes, complained of thirst, and was manifestly surprised at
+seeing the coxcomb turned leech.
+
+"I came in search of you to pursue our game," Foster explained
+when they had ministered to him, "and, 'fore George, I am
+vastly grieved to find you in this condition."
+
+"Pish, sir, my condition is none so grievous - a scratch, no
+more, and were my heart itself pierced the knowledge that I
+have gained - "  He stopped short.  "But there, sir," he added
+presently, "I am grateful beyond words for your timely
+ministration, and if to my debt you will add that of leaving me
+awhile to rest, I shall appreciate it."
+
+His glance met Cynthia's and he smiled.  The host coughed
+significantly, and shuffled towards the door.  But Master
+Foster made no shift to move; but stood instead beside
+Galliard, though in apparent hesitation.
+
+"I should like a word with you ere I go," he said at length. 
+Then turning and perceiving the landlord standing by the door
+in an attitude of eloquent waiting: "Take yourself off," he
+cried to him.  "Crush me, may not one gentleman say a word to
+another without being forced to speak into your inquisitive
+ears as well?  You will forgive my heat, madam, but, God
+a"mercy, that greasy rascal tries me sorely."
+
+"Now, sir," he resumed, when the host was gone.  "I stand thus:
+I have lost to you to-day a sum of money which, though some
+might account considerable, is in itself no more than a trifle.
+
+"I am, however, greatly exercised at the loss of certain
+trinkets which have to me a peculiar value, and which, to be
+frank, I staked in a moment of desperation.  I had hoped, sir,
+to retrieve my losses o'er a friendly main this evening, for I
+have still to stake a coach and four horses - as noble a set of
+beasts as you'll find in England, aye rat me.  Your wound, sir,
+renders it impossible for me to ask you to give yourself the
+fatigue of obliging me.  I come, then, to propose that you
+return me those trinkets against my note of hand for the amount
+that was staked on them.  I am well known in town, sir," he
+added hurriedly, "and you need have no anxiety."
+
+Crispin stopped him with a wave of the hand.
+
+"I have none, sir, in that connexion, and I am willing to do as
+you suggest."  He thrust his hand into his pocket, and drew
+forth the rings, the brooch and the ear-ring he had won. 
+"Here, sir, are your trinkets."
+
+"Sir," cried Mr.  Foster, thrown into some confusion by
+Galliard's unquestioning generosity, "I am indebted to you. 
+Rat me, sir, I am indeed.  You shall have my note of hand on
+the instant.  How much shall we say?"
+
+"One moment, Mr.  Foster," said Crispin, an idea suddenly
+occurring to him.  "You mentioned horses.  Are they fresh?"
+
+"As June roses."
+
+"And you are returning to London, are you not?"
+
+"I am."
+
+"When do you wish to proceed?"
+
+"To-morrow."
+
+"Why, then, sir, I have a proposal to make which will remove
+the need of your note of hand.  Lend me your horses, sir, to
+reach Harwich.  I wish to set out at once "
+
+"But your wound?" cried Cynthia.  "You are still faint."
+
+"Faint!  Not I.  I am awake and strong.  My wound is no wound,
+for a scratch may not be given that name.  So there,
+sweetheart."  He laughed, and drawing down her head, he
+whispered the words: "Your father."  Then turning again to
+Foster.  "Now, sir," he continued, "there are four tolerable
+posthorses of mine below, on which you can follow tomorrow to
+Harwich, there exchanging them again for your own, which you
+shall find awaiting you, stabled at the Garter Inn.  For this
+service, to me of immeasurable value, I will willingly cede
+those gewgaws to you."
+
+"But, rat me, sir," cried Foster in bewilderment, "tis too
+generous - 'pon honour it is.  I can't consent to it.  No, rat
+me, I can't."
+
+"I have told you how great a boon you will confer.  Believe me,
+sir, to me it is worth twice, a hundred times the value of
+those trinkets."
+
+"You shall have my horses, sir, and my note of hand as well,"
+said Foster firmly.
+
+"Your note of hand is of no value to me, sir.  I look to leave
+England to-morrow, and I know not when I may return."
+
+Thus in the end it came about that the bargain was concluded. 
+Cynthia's maid was awakened and bidden to rise.  The horses
+were harnessed to Crispin's coach, and Crispin, leaning upon
+Harry Foster's arm, descended and took his place within the
+carriage.
+
+Leaving the London blood at the door of the Suffolk Arms,
+crushing, burning, damning and ratting himself at Crispin's
+magnificence, they rolled away through the night in the
+direction of Ipswich.
+
+Ten o"clock in the morning beheld them at the door of the
+Garter Inn at Harwich.  But the jolting of the coach had so
+hardly used Crispin that he had to be carried into the
+hostelry.  He was much exercised touching the Lady Jane and his
+inability to go down to the quay in quest of her, when he was
+accosted by a burly, red-faced individual who bluntly asked him
+was he called Sir Crispin Galliard.  Ere he could frame an
+answer the man had added that he was Thomas Jackson, master of
+the Lady Jane - at which piece of good news Crispin felt like
+to shout for joy.
+
+But his reflection upon his present position, when at last he
+lay in the schooner's cabin, brought him the bitter reverse of
+pleasure.  He had set out to bring Cynthia to his son; he had
+pledged his honour to accomplish it.  How was he fulfilling his
+trust?  In his despondency, during a moment when alone, he
+cursed the knave that had wounded him for his clumsiness in not
+having taken a lower aim when he fired, and thus solved him
+this ugly riddle of life for all time.
+
+Vainly did he strive to console himself and endeavour to
+palliate the wrong he had done with the consideration that he
+was the man Cynthia loved, and not his son; that his son was
+nothing to her, and that she would never have accompanied him
+had she dreamt that he wooed her for another.
+
+No.  The deed was foul, and rendered fouler still by virtue of
+those other wrongs in whose extenuation it had been undertaken. 
+For a moment he grew almost a coward.  He was on the point of
+bidding Master Jackson avoid Calais and make some other port
+along the coast.  But in a moment he had scorned the craven
+argument of flight, and determined that come what might he
+would face his son, and lay the truth before him, leaving him
+to judge how strong fate had been.  As he lay feverish and
+fretful in the vessel's cabin, he came well-nigh to hating
+Kenneth; he remembered him only as a poor, mean creature, now a
+bigot, now a fop, now a psalm-monger, now a roysterer, but ever
+a hypocrite, ever a coward, and never such a man as he could
+have taken pride in presenting as his offspring.
+
+They had a fair wind, and towards evening Cynthia, who had been
+absent from his side a little while, came to tell him that the
+coast of France grew nigh.
+
+His answer was a sigh, and when she chid him for it, he essayed
+a smile that was yet more melancholy.  For a second he was
+tempted to confide in her; to tell her of the position in which
+he found himself and to lighten his load by sharing it with
+her.  But this he dared not do.  Cynthia must never know.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVII
+
+THE AUBERGE DU SOLEIL
+
+
+In a room of the first floor of the Auberge du Soleil, at
+Calais, the host inquired of Crispin if he were milord
+Galliard.  At that question Crispin caught his breath in
+apprehension, and felt himself turn pale.  What it portended,
+he guessed; and it stifled the hope that had been rising in him
+since his arrival, and because he had not found his son
+awaiting him either on the jetty or at the inn.  He dared ask
+no questions, fearing that the reply would quench that hope,
+which rose despite himself, and begotten of a desire of which
+he was hardly conscious.
+
+He sighed before replying, and passing his brown, nervous hand
+across his brow, he found it moist.
+
+"My name, M. l"hote, is Crispin Galliard.  What news have you
+for me?"
+
+"A gentleman - a countryman of milord's - has been here these
+three days awaiting him."
+
+For a little while Crispin sat quite still, stripped of his
+last rag of hope.  Then suddenly bracing himself, he sprang up,
+despite his weakness.
+
+"Bring him to me.  I will see him at once."
+
+"Tout-a-l"heure, monsieur," replied the landlord.  "At the
+moment he is absent.  He went out to take the air a couple of
+hours ago, and is not yet returned."
+
+"Heaven send he has walked into the sea!" Crispin broke out
+passionately.  Then as passionately he checked himself.  "No,
+no, my God - not that!  I meant not that."
+
+"Monsieur will sup?"
+
+"At once, and let me have lights."  The host withdrew, to
+return a moment later with a couple of lighted tapers, which he
+set upon the table.
+
+As he was retiring, a heavy step sounded on the stair,
+accompanied by the clank of a scabbard against the baluster.
+
+"Here comes milord's countryman," the landlord announced.
+
+And Crispin, looking up in apprehension, saw framed in the
+doorway the burly form of Harry Hogan.
+
+He sat bolt upright, staring as though he beheld an apparition. 
+With a sad smile, Hogan advanced, and set his hand
+affectionately upon Galliard's shoulder.
+
+"Welcome to France, Crispin," said he.  "If not him whom you
+looked to find, you have at least a loyal friend to greet you."
+
+"Hogan!" gasped the knight.  "What make you here?  How came you
+here?  Where is Jocelyn?"
+
+The Irishman looked at him gravely for a moment, then sighed
+and sank down upon a chair.  "You have brought the lady?" he
+asked.
+
+"She is here.  She will be with us presently."
+
+Hogan groaned and shook his grey head sorrowfully.
+
+"But where is Jocelyn?" cried Galliard again, and his haggard
+face looked very wan and white as he turned it inquiringly upon
+his companion.  "Why is he not here?"
+
+"I have bad news."
+
+"Bad news?" muttered Crispin, as though he understood not the
+meaning of the words.  "Bad news?" he repeated musingly.  Then
+bracing himself, "What is this news?"
+
+"And you have brought the lady too!" Hogan complained.  "Faith,
+I had hoped that you had failed in that at least."
+
+"Sdeath, Harry," Crispin exclaimed.  "Will you tell me the
+news?"
+
+Hogan pondered a moment.  Then:
+
+"I will relate the story from the very beginning," said he. 
+"Some four hours after your departure from Waltham) my men
+brought in the malignant we were hunting.  I dispatched my
+sergeant and the troop forthwith to London with the prisoner,
+keeping just two troopers with me.  An hour or so later a coach
+clattered into the yard, and out of it stepped a short, lean
+man in black, with a very evil face and a crooked eye, who
+bawled out that he was Joseph Ashburn of Castle Marleigh, a
+friend of the Lord General's, and that he must have horses on
+the instant to proceed upon his journey to London.  I was in
+the yard at the time, and hearing the full announcement I
+guessed what his business in London was.  He entered the inn to
+refresh himself and I followed him.  In the common room the
+first man his eyes lighted on was your son.  He gasped at sight
+of him, and when he had recovered his breath he let fly as
+round a volley of blasphemy as ever I heard from the lips of a
+Puritan.  When that was over, "Fool," he yells, "what make you
+here?"  The lad stammered and grew confused.  At last - "I was
+detained here," says he.  "Detained!" thunders the other, "and
+by whom?"  "By my father, you murdering villain!" was the hot
+answer.
+
+"At that Master Ashburn grows very white and very evil-looking. 
+"So," he says, in a playful voice, "you have learnt that, have
+you?  Well, by God! the lesson shall profit neither you nor
+that rascal your father.  But I'll begin with you, you cur." 
+And with that he seizes a jug of ale that stood on the table,
+and empties it over the boy's face.  Soul of my body!  The lad
+showed such spirit then as I had never looked to find in him. 
+"Outside," yells he, tugging at his sword with one hand, and
+pointing to the door with the other.  "Outside, you hound,
+where I can kill you!"  Ashburn laughed and cursed him, and
+together they flung past me into the yard.  The place was empty
+at the moment, and there, before the clash of their blades had
+drawn interference, the thing was over - and Ashburn had sent
+his sword through Jocelyn's heart."
+
+Hogan paused, and Crispin sat very still and white, his soul in
+torment.
+
+"And Ashburn?" he asked presently, in a voice that was
+singularly hoarse and low.  "What became of him?  Was he not
+arrested?"
+
+"No," said Hogan grimly, "he was not arrested.  He was buried. 
+Before he had wiped his blade I had stepped up to him and
+accused him of murdering a beardless boy.  I remembered the
+reckoning he owed you, I remembered that he had sought to send
+you to your death; I saw the boy's body still warm and bleeding
+upon the ground, and I struck him with my knuckles on the
+mouth.  Like the cowardly ruffian he was, he made a pass at me
+with his sword before I had got mine out.  I avoided it
+narrowly, and we set to work.
+
+"People rushed in and would have stopped us, but I cursed them
+so whilst I fenced, swearing to kill any man that came between
+us, that they held off and waited.  I didn't keep them
+overlong.  I was no raw youngster fresh from the hills of
+Scotland.  I put the point of my sword through Joseph Ashburn's
+throat within a minute of our engaging.
+
+"It was then as I stood in that shambles and looked down upon
+my handiwork that I recalled in what favour Master Ashburn was
+held by the Parliament, and I grew sick to think of what the
+consequences might be.  To avoid them I got me there and then
+to horse, and rode in a straight line for Greenwich, hoping to
+find the Lady Jane still there.  But my messenger had already
+sent her to Harwich for you.  I was well ahead of possible
+pursuit, and so I pushed on to Dover, and thence I crossed,
+arriving here three days ago."
+
+Crispin rose and stepped up to Hogan.  "The last time you came
+to me after killing a man, Harry, I was of some service to you. 
+You shall find me no less useful now.  You will come to Paris
+with me?"
+
+"But the lady?" gasped Hogan, amazed at Crispin's lack of
+thought for her.
+
+"I hear her step upon the stairs.  Leave me now, Harry, but as
+you go, desire the landlord to send for a priest.  The lady
+remains."
+
+One look of utter bewilderment did Hogan bestow upon Sir
+Crispin, and for once his glib, Irish tongue could shape no
+other words than:
+
+"Soul of my body!"
+
+He wrung Crispin's hand, and in a state of ineffable perplexity
+he hurried from the room to do what was required of him.
+
+For a moment Crispin stood by the window, and looking out into
+the night he thanked God from his heart for his solution of the
+monstrous riddle that had been set him.
+
+Then the rustle of a gown drew his attention, and he swung
+round to find Cynthia smiling upon him from the threshold.
+
+He advanced to meet her, and setting his hands upon her
+shoulders, he held her at arm's length, looking down into her
+eyes.
+
+"Cynthia, my Cynthia!" he cried.  And she, breaking past the
+barrier of his grasp, nestled up to him with a sigh of sweet
+and unalloyed content.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+End of The Project Gutenberg Etext of The Tavern Knight
+by Rafael Sabatini
+
diff --git a/old/tavrn10.zip b/old/tavrn10.zip
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..cce6e81
--- /dev/null
+++ b/old/tavrn10.zip