o loved dark ways. A little good sense, a little
honesty, and long ago there would have been a settlement. But to treat
with Charles was to lay foundations on rotten peat.

Oddly enough, now that he was perforce quit of any share in the
business, he found his wrath rising against the King. A few hours
back he had spoken for him. Had he after all been wrong? He wondered.
Oliver's puzzled face rose before him. He had learned to revere that
strange man's perplexities. No brain was keener to grasp an argument,
for the general was as quick at a legal point as any lawyer. When,
therefore, he still hesitated before what seemed a final case, it was
well to search for hidden flaws. Above all when he gave no reason it was
wise to hasten to him, for often his mind flew ahead of logic, and at
such times he was inspired. Lovel himself and Vane and Fairfax had put
the politic plea which seemed unanswerable, and yet Oliver halted
and asked for a sign. Was it possible that the other course, the wild
course, Ireton's course, was the right one?

Mr. Lovel had bowed to fate and his captors, and conscious that no
action could follow on any conclusion he might reach, felt free to
indulge his thoughts. He discovered these growing sterner. He revieived
is argument against the King's trial. Its gravamen lay in the certainty
that trial meant death. The plea against death was that it would
antagonise three-fourths of England, and make a martyr out of a fool.
Would it do no more? Were there no gains to set against that loss? To
his surprise he found himself confessing a gain.

He had suddenly become impatient with folly. It was Cromwell's mood,
as one who, living under the eye of God, scorned the vapourings of
pedestalled mortals. Mr. Lovel by a different road reached the same
goal. An abiding sense of fate ordering the universe made him intolerant
of trivial claims of prerogative and blood. Kingship for him had no
sanctity save in so far as it was truly kingly. Were honest folk to be
harried because of the whims of a man whose remote ancestor had been a
fortunate bandit? Carles had time and again broke faith with his people
and soaked the land in blood. In law he could do no wrong, but, unless
God slept, punishment should follow the crime, and if the law gave no
aid the law must be dispensed with. Man was not made for it, but it for
man.

The jurist in him pulled up with a start. He was arguing against all his
training.... But was the plea f