and so, with an oath and a groan, he went to work to pinion Gregory.

Then Joseph spoke again. "Weigh well this act of yours, Sir Crispin,"
he cried. "You are still young; much of life lies yet before you. Do not
wantonly destroy it by an act that cannot repair the past."

"But it can avenge it, Joseph. As for my life, you destroyed it years
ago. The future has naught to offer me; the present has this." And he
drew back his sword to strike.

CHAPTER XVII. JOSEPH DRIVES A BARGAIN

A new terror leapt into Joseph's eyes at that movement of Crispin's,
and for the third time that night did he taste the agony that is Death's
forerunner. Yet Galliard delayed the stroke. He held his sword poised,
the point aimed at Joseph's breast, and holding, he watched him, marking
each phase of the terror reflected upon his livid countenance. He was
loth to strike, for to strike would mean to end this exquisite torture
of horror to which he was subjecting him.

Broken Joseph had been before and passive; now of a sudden he grew
violent again, but in a different way. He flung himself upon his knees
before Sir Crispin, and passionately he pleaded for the sparing of his
miserable life.

Crispin looked on with an eye both of scorn and of cold relish. It was
thus he wished to see him, broken and agonized, suffering thus something
of all that which he himself had suffered through despair in the years
that were sped. With satisfaction then he watched his victim's agony;
he watched it too with scorn and some loathing--for a craven was in his
eyes an ugly sight, and Joseph in that moment was truly become as vile a
coward as ever man beheld. His parchment-like face was grey and mottled,
his brow bedewed with sweat; his lips were blue and quivering, his eyes
bloodshot and almost threatening tears.

In the silence of one who waits stood Crispin, listening, calm and
unmoved, as though he heard not, until Joseph's whining prayers
culminated in an offer to make reparation. Then Crispin broke in at
length with an impatient gesture.

"What reparation can you make, you murderer? Can you restore to me the
wife and child you butchered eighteen years ago?"

"I can restore your child at least," returned the other. "I can and will
restore him to you if you but stay your hand. That and much more will I
do to repair the past."

Unconsciously Crispin lowered his sword-arm, and for a full minute he
stood and stared at Joseph. His jaw was fallen and