The Crimson Sign

asserted there were still darker stains on his character as a soldier. Such a man, Gervase well knew, would not stretch the laws of war in his favour, and it was more than likel

zed the little surgeon who had attended to his wound, now busily engaged in discussing the contents of a pewter 45measure. At the head of the table was an officer of superior rank, and near him stood Hackett, with his hands bound behind his back and a great gash on his forehead. He had evidently been under examination, and his replies had not been satisfactory to the officer who was cross-examining him. At a glance Gervase recogniz

in charge of Hackett, “Do not remove him. I may have further questions to put to him. And now for this young cock wh

my Lord,” said De Laprade, “I trust your L

bligations presently, but we shall s

ok of warning. “My name is Orme,” he said, feeling weak and fa

your

g with other gentlemen of the No

awful authority to carry them, ′tis my duty to string you up as a warning to other malcontents. His Majesty has shown too much long-suffering, and had he been wise we had stamped out this

prade′s gesture of warning. “I have taken the oath of allegiance to William and Mary,

p, Whitney, for no one shall say that we did not give this damned rebel a chance. And

on that matter I pray your 47Lordship to hold me excused. My knowledg

e to answer a pla

your Lordshi

I have been blamed by those who should know better, for the practice of a little just severity, and His Majesty would pet and pamper these rebels and treat them as faithful subjects who had been led astray. And here you have the issue.

with a sneer, “for if I mistake not I have seen him before. Pray,

mised himself to observe; “I am in your hands, but I will answer no questions

ered. “But remember, the toast is waiting, and no man in my

an living will force me. I hav

y you, Major? Do you recognize this stiff-necked W

d at the Bunch of Grapes hard by the Castle, and though we wer

on me. Look you, sergeant, take the prisoner without, and see that he drinks that measure of wine. A lighted match, if properly applied, will bring him to reason. In the morning you will see t

beside which he had been standing. The room swam round him, and though he strove against it he felt that his 49senses were rapidly fail

ish to interfere, as I thought your Lordship would have treated this gentleman as a f

rtesy. “Certainly, my dear Vicomte, there is no one to whom I listen with grea

t for that obligation I should have been lying beside Luttrel on the high-road. I always end

ell you that I find it hard

, at great peril to his life, for I apprehended a pretty quarrel, stepped between us and compelled him to forbe

plead for him. God′s wounds! Viscount, you forget that he first attacked you on the

e to the King of England, but I do not forget that I am a gentleman and a man of honour. In France we do not put our prisoners to th

a most estimable virtue, and exceedingly rare. In return for his services perhaps your Lordship will pr

at any future time. I ask you, my Lord, for this gentleman′s life. ′T

o-night. Sergeant, you need not apply the thumbscrew. And for you, sir, you can make up your mind to set the example 51you hinted at. As it is, you may thank Viscount de La

accede to my request? and that the gentleman in whom your Lor

to the officer who sat ne

so slight esteem, that this simple favour is denied me, or because in this country gentlemen are deaf to the voice of expediency. But I know that the

a safe rule to let every country manage its own affairs according to its own customs. Damme, man, this is not the court of Versailles, but the country of Whig

never learn to forget

ot permitted to fight out their quarrel, for several gentlemen threw themselves between them, and succeeded in disarming them both; not, however, without difficulty in the case of Galmoy, who seemed almost to have been deprived of his reason in the excess o

thoughts and to realize what had happened, for his mind was still confused and weak. He knew that he was about to die, but it seemed to him at that moment as if it were another and not himself who had taken part in the drama that had just concluded. For himself, he was drifting blindly among shadows that grew 53thicker and darker as he

ian does not fear death. I should have liked, if it had so pleased the Almighty, to have died on the field of battle, but since ′tis His will, then His will be done. It is not for us to

ough goodnature, threw a horse cloth over his shoulders, for the night had grown chilly and he was shivering with cold. Then the