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 w