a little as he realized
that that closed door shut out to him the world for ever; but once again
would he cross that threshold, and that would be the preface to the
crossing of the greater threshold of eternity.

Then something stirred in one of that room's dark corners, and he
started, to see that he was not alone, remembering that Cromwell had
said he was to have a companion in his last hours.

"Who are you?" came a dull voice--a voice that was eloquent of misery.

"Master Stewart!" he exclaimed, recognizing his companion. "So it was
you gave the King your horse at the Saint Martin's Gate! May Heaven
reward you. Gadswounds," he added, "I had little thought to meet you
again this side the grave."

"Would to Heaven you had not!" was the doleful answer. "What make you
here?"

"By your good leave and with your help I'll make as merry as a man may
whose sands are all but run. The Lord General--whom the devil roast in
his time will make a pendulum of me at daybreak, and gives me the night
in which to prepare."

The lad came forward into the light, and eyed Sir Crispin sorrowfully.

"We are companions in misfortune, then."

"Were we ever companions in aught else? Come, sir, be of better cheer.
Since it is to be our last night in this poor world, let us spend it as
pleasantly as may be."

"Pleasantly?"

"Twill clearly be difficult," answered Crispin, with a laugh. "Were we
in Christian hands they'd not deny us a black jack over which to relish
our last jest, and to warm us against the night air, which must be
chill in this garret. But these crop-ears..." He paused to peer into the
pitcher on the table. "Water! Pah! A scurvy lot, these psalm-mongers!"

"Merciful Heaven! Have you no thought for your end?"

"Every thought, good youth, every thought, and I would fain prepare me
for the morning's dance in a more jovial and hearty fashion than Old
Noll will afford me--damn him!"

Kenneth drew back in horror. His old dislike for Crispin was all aroused
by this indecent flippancy at such a time. Just then the thought of
spending the night in his company almost effaced the horror of the
gallows whereof he had been a prey.

Noting the movement, Crispin laughed disdainfully, and walked towards
the window. It was a small opening, by which two iron bars, set
crosswise, defied escape. Moreover, as Crispin looked out, he realized
that a more effective barrier lay in the height of the window itself.
The house overlooked the