"Of course you expect no mercy from me?" said Otho presently.

"I know you are too good a pupil of your master to dream of such a thing," I replied, and even as I spoke I wondered how long it would take the messenger I had sent to reach Hugh Boscawen,[Pg 372] and whether help could arrive before Otho had completed his designs.

"Be careful, Roger Trevanion," he said bitterly.

"Why?" I asked. "I know you will do your worst whatever may happen. Say your say, man, and unless you gag me I shall say mine."

"Yes, I will say my say. Oh, I know what you are thinking. Well, we have sentinels in every direction, and the moment there is a sign of any friends of yours coming, we shall be warned, and that moment you shall die."

My heart sank as he said this. For although I do not think I fear death more than another man, I did dread the cruelty of this man. Besides, I longed for life; never, indeed, had it been so sweet to me as now. Only a few hours before my dear maid Nancy had laid her head on my shoulder and had sobbed out her love to me. I knew, too, that she would have a bitter enemy in Otho, and if I were dead she would be a prey to his many wiles. Still I determined not to betray fear. At any rate, he should not have the comfort of making me plead for mercy.

"Then say on," I said, "your thoughts can give you little comfort; you have been outwitted, beaten all along the line. I can die, but not before I've drawn your teeth."

"Except that Charles will not land."

"If that is any comfort to you, except that."

"We may as well add another thing," he sneered; "but I will refrain, because it refers to a lady."

[Pg 373]

I was silent.

"Oh yes, I have touched you at last, have I? Well, let me give you a little comfort in that direction. The lady shall be well looked after."

I looked at Uncle Anthony as he spoke, and saw the old man's face twitch. In spite of myself I was comforted. My dear maid was not without one friend.

"Perhaps I will refer to that again presently," he went on; "you will be glad to hear her name in your last minutes. But let me tell you another thing: Roger Trevanion, I hate you."

"Doubtless," I said with a sneer.

"I hate you," he went on, and now he spoke quickly and passionately. "I hate you because again and again you have beaten me, and I never forgive a man who has done that. You have outwitted me—yes, I will admit it—and have made the only woman——" he stopped a second as though his passion had led him to commence a sentence which he did not know how to finish. "God is tired of you," he continued presently, "for you have hindered the true king from coming back to England, and with the true king the true faith. We owe our failure to you."

"Yes, you do," I replied, "you do. You thought to restore the fortunes of your dying name. Religion is little to you. How can it be? But the failure of your plans to bring the Pretender here is the deathblow to your hopes. To succeed you have lied, you have played the spy; you have bartered friendship, and all things good and true. Well, I have beaten you. You can[Pg 374] take a paltry revenge by killing me, but you cannot undo the fact that I have beaten you."

I felt a savage joy in saying this, for at that moment I cared for nothing.

"You will not fight as a man should," I went on. "When it comes to open blows you run away like a coward. You prefer plot and intrigue, and lies in the dark."

"It cannot be said that you are guiltless of plot and intrigue, either," remarked Uncle Anthony quietly.

"I have been obliged to use my enemies' weapons," I replied; "but I have betrayed no man, no woman. I have sought to hurt no man. Nay, I have ever tried to befriend rather than to harm."

"I know more about you than you think," remarked Uncle Anthony; "and at one time I should have been sorely disturbed at doing you harm, so much did I believe in you. It is little use deploring the inevitable. I am too old a man to give up because of one failure, or to cry out because God seemeth against me. But why did you interfere, Roger Trevanion? You, the gay spendthrift—you, who have cared but little for aught save your gaming and your revelries. Why did you not live your life, and let others deal with matters of serious import? Religion is naught to you. It is everything to some of us."

"Because the society of a pure woman made me ashamed of myself," I cried; "because she made me remember my name, my race, and my duty to my country and to God."

[Pg 375]

The old man sighed, while Otho spoke apart with two or three of the men.

"Methinks I had better have killed you this very evening," he said; "my hand was on the trigger of my pistol."

"When we met?"

"Aye."

"And I might have had you arrested," I replied. "I recognized you in spite of your disguise. I wrote a note to Lord Falmouth warning him that no reliance could be placed upon the information you might give. I might have added your name."

"So you might," he said quietly, and he seemed in deep thought. "Then this danger signal would not have been seen," he added.

At that moment we heard the sound of a gun coming from across the waters.

"Ah!" cried voices all around me; "they have seen the danger signal. Now we must leave."

"But not before I have dealt with Roger Trevanion," cried Otho Killigrew; "now, you fellows, do my bidding."

"Not that, by God, no!" cried one of the men, "let him die as man should. I'll have naught to do with roasting."

"But we owe all our failure to him," cried Otho.

"You have your own private grudge, no doubt," said another. "Kill him as a gentleman should be killed. Hot lead, cold steel, or the water, I don't mind which, but not that."

I looked around as well as I could, but Uncle[Pg 376] Anthony had gone, and I saw that there was a movement among the men who had waited by the fire.

"Then it shall be cold steel," cried Otho, and he drew his sword from his sheath.

If it be possible to realize a sense of satisfaction at such a moment, I realized it then. At any rate, I was not to suffer the cruel torture which Otho intended. Indeed, I doubt whether my mind could have withstood much longer the strain I was undergoing. For the last few days my life had been one constant excitement. Every nerve was strung to the highest pitch, and although my wound was neither deep nor dangerous, it had pained me much.

"They laugh best who laugh last," said Otho, coming to me grimly, "and I shall laugh last, I warrant you."

"Be quick, then, and do your devil's work!" I cried aloud, for I was sore wrought upon. "I cannot touch you, I am bound, so you are safe. But I would to God I could die at the hands of a man, instead of a revengeful cut-throat."

"No, you shall die by my hand," said Otho, slowly and grimly.

"No, by Heaven he shall not!" cried a voice near; "whatever he is, Trevanion is a brave man, and he can fight. I would I had known you were here sooner. Ah, I love a man who can fight! Cut the ropes, men, and let him die as a man should!"

It was Benet Killigrew who spoke, and I saw his eyes fairly gleam with savage joy.

[Pg 377]

"Yes, it is I, Roger Trevanion," he cried; "I told you we should meet again; I told you we should fight again. Faith, I almost forgive you for having spoiled all my old dad's plans; I shall have a fight after all, a real fight with a man who knows the use of a sword. Aye, but I love you, Trevanion. I love you!"

"Benet, this is not your affair," said Otho; "it was agreed upon that this fellow should be taken and killed at all hazards, and that I should see it done."

"I care not, Otho. He is a worthy gentleman, and he shall die as becometh one. Oh, you need not fear, I will kill him; but not as a butcher may kill a pig. Cut his cords, men. Nay I will do it myself. There, that's it. Stand up, Roger Trevanion. Ah! they have not taken your sword from you; it is well! Stand around, men; there is plenty of light."

For once Otho Killigrew yielded to his brother. Perhaps he was glad to do so, for while it may be easy to kill another in hot fight, a man must have lost his manhood if he willingly and in cold blood will kill another who is helpless and bound. Besides, Otho knew it to be dangerous to stay there. The king's men might come at any minute.

"Yes, I will leave you to my brother, Roger Trevanion," he said slowly; "I think I am glad he came. He saves me from doing dirty work."

"Very dirty," I replied.

"Aye," he said, "just as a hangman's work is dirty. Still it is necessary, and Benet is better fitted for it than I. And before I go, I will give[Pg 378] you a little information. I go to see a lady who is a mutual acquaintance. I will tell her how I left you. She will be much interested. You are about to take a long journey, and the end thereof will be dark. I wish you all the joy you can get out of it. I will tell our lady friend about it, as we caress each other and laugh at you."

"Coward," I cried, unable to control myself, "base, skulking coward. Come back and fight me," but he laughed in his quiet way as he mounted a horse that stood near-by.

"By the way," he continued, "you stole my horse, but Benet will make that all right. You will soon be in congenial company—and so shall I. Good-night!"

"You are right, Trevanion," cried Benet in almost a friendly tone. "Otho is a coward; he hath a way with him which drives me mad. Ah, but I love you. Stand around, men. Now draw, man"; and putting himself in a posture of defense, he made his sword whistle about his head.

"Had we not better get away to a distance?" asked one who stood by. "We can now do no good by staying, and we may be in danger at any minute."

"Nonsense!" cried Benet. "They will have heard the guns as well as we, and they will know what it means. The game is up, I tell you. Besides we can never find a better place than this. Here is green grass to stand on, and a rare light. Now, Trevanion."

I drew my sword and stood before him. Even as I did so I knew to whom I owed his coming.[Pg 379] It was Uncle Anthony who had told him how I stood. The old man knew his disposition, knew that fighting was the breath of Benet Killigrew's life, and was sure that it would be untold joy ............