ng with impatient
fear. Anxiously, his hands clenched and his face pale, he watched his
companion, who stood with brows knit in thought, and his grey
eyes staring at the ground. At length he could brook that, to him,
incomprehensible and mad delay no longer.

"Sir Crispin," he whispered, plucking at his sleeve; "Sir Crispin."

The knight flashed him a glance that was almost of anger. Then the fire
died out of his eyes; he sighed and spoke. In that second's glance
he had seen the lad's face; the fear and impatience written on it had
disgusted him, and caused the scales to fall suddenly and definitely
against the boy.

"I was thinking how it might be accomplished," he said.

"There is but one way," cried the lad.

"On the contrary, there are two, and I wish to choose carefully."

"If you delay your choice much longer, none will be left you," cried
Kenneth impatiently.

Noting the lad's growing fears, and resolved now upon his course,
Galliard set himself to play upon them until terror should render the
boy as wax in his hands.

"There speaks your callow inexperience," said he, with a pitying smile.
"When you shall have lived as long as I have done, and endured as much;
when you shall have set your wits to the saving of your life as often
as have I--you will have learnt that haste is fatal to all enterprises.
Failure means the forfeiture of something; tonight it would mean the
forfeiture of our lives, and it were a pity to let such good efforts as
these"--and with a wave of the hand he indicated their two captors--"go
wasted."

"Sir," exclaimed Kenneth, well-nigh beside himself, "if you come not
with me, I go alone!"

"Whither?" asked Crispin dryly.

"Out of this."

Galliard bowed slightly.

"Fare you well, sir. I'll not detain you. Your way is clear, and it is
for you to choose between the door and the window."

And with that Crispin turned his back upon his companion and crossed to
the bed, where the trooper lay glaring in mute anger. He stooped,
and unbuckling the soldier's swordbelt--to which the scabbard was
attached--he girt himself with it. Without raising his eyes, and keeping
his back to Kenneth, who stood between him and the door, he went next to
the table, and, taking up the sword that he had left there, he restored
it to the sheath. As the hilt clicked against the mouth of the scabbard:

"Come, Sir Crispin!" cried the lad. "Are you ready?"

Galliard wheeled sharply round.

"How? Not gone