e globes of heaven, and you
can ride like Diomed, the jolly Greek, who knew that horses could be
stridden as well as driven."

Evander, who had seated himself and had been tracing cabalistic signs
on the grass with his staff, looked up into his companion's face.

"Are not you rather a queer kind of Cavalier," he asked, "if you
think that a Puritan must needs be a fool?"

Halfman laughed back at him, and as he laughed he showed his teeth so
seeming white by contrast with his sunburned cheeks, and he seemed to
Evander more than ever like some half-tamed beast of prey.

"You are no fool, Puritan," Halfman shouted, "or Heaven would not
have wasted its time in gracing you with such skill at sports. So
great with the rapier, so wise on the bias. No, no; you are no fool.
I am almost sad to think you quit us so soon, enemy though you be."

While Halfman had been babbling, Evander had again been busy with his
staff. Halfman had paid no heed to his actions, being far too deep in
his own phrases. Had he been attentive he might have noticed that at
first Evander wrote on the green grass, as vainly as he might have
written in water, a word, a name: Brilliana. Had he been attentive he
might have noticed that Evander now wrote another word that was also
a name and more than a name: Death. But he did not notice, and as he
ended with his odd tribute to his enemy, Evander looked up at him
with a calm face.

"I shall not quit you so soon," he said, in an even voice. "I have
come to stay at Harby."

Halfman looked at him, puzzled.

"Stay at Harby," he repeated. "Nonsense, man; what are you thinking
of? You will be riding hence in three days' time, when Sir Randolph
is released."

Evander shook his head.

"Sir Randolph will not be released," he said. The quiet positiveness
in his tone staggered Halfman. Stooping, with his hands resting on
his knees, his unquiet eyes stared into Evander's quiet eyes.

"Sir Randolph will not be released! Why the devil will Sir Randolph
not be released?"

Evander rose from his seat and rested his hand for a moment lightly
on Halfman's arm, while he said, impressively:

"Say nothing of this to your lady, for Sir Randolph is her kinsman,
and I think she holds him dear. Let ill news come late. But if
Colonel Cromwell has taken a spy prisoner, that spy will very surely
die."

Halfman stiffened himself. His eyes had never left Evander's, and he
knew that Evander spoke what he believed. He gave a