we stand of success."

"Who are those men that brought us here?"

"Hirelings," she cried. "Of course I paid them well. Don't ask so many
questions, Cliff. They are natives from near here. They will do
anything I ask."

"Come, Peggy," he said rising. "We are going back. Not all the
hirelings in the world shall make me break my parole."

"Clifford, 'tis not the time for quixotic foolishness. Do you not
understand that Sir Guy hath sent word to General Washington that he
will investigate further? General Washington does not want that. He
wants Lippencott, or, failing him, a victim. He will wait only so long
as it takes Sir Guy's letter to reach him. It means death, Clifford.
An ignominious death."

"And do you know that you are asking me to break my parole, my sister?
That you are asking me to break my word of honor? That you wish me to
betray the trust reposed in me by a chivalrous foe?"

"A chivalrous foe!" she scoffed. "Is it chivalrous to slay the
innocent for the guilty? I tell you, Clifford, that truly as you live
I have taken the only way to save you. You are justifiable in breaking
any word given under such circumstances. Is life of so little worth
that you do not care for it? What hath rendered you so indifferent?"

"Life without honor hath no charm for me, my sister," he returned
solemnly. "A parole is more binding upon a soldier than ropes of
steel, or chains of iron would be. Men have broken paroles, but when
they do they no longer are esteemed by honorably minded men. Such are
poltroons, cowards. I will not be of their number. A truce to this
talk! If I am to die, I will die as a soldier, blameless and of
spotless reputation."

"Clifford," she entreated him earnestly, "'tis the only hope. You have
already broken your parole in passing the prescribed limits of the
rides. I had regard for your scruples by having you brought here. And
now, since you are here through no fault of your own, you can take
advantage of the fact to escape."

"Sophistry," he uttered shortly. "That is no salve to the conscience,
Harriet."

"But the death, my brother?" She was very white for Clifford was
moving toward the door. "'Tis no way for a gentleman to die."

"The mode is not at all to my liking, my sister," he answered gravely.
"Hanging is not, in very truth, a death for a gentleman; still a man
may be a gentleman though he be hanged."

He put his hand on the door-knob and turned again toward Peggy. But
Harriet utt