ge you as is due."

"Sir John, you mistake me, I think. I do not desire that you avenge me.
I have asked you upon what grounds you intend to do this thing, and you
have not answered me."

In increasing amazement he continued to stare. He had been wrong, then.
She was quite sane and mistress of her wits. And yet instead of the fond
inquiries concerning Lionel which he had been dreading came this amazing
questioning of his grounds to hang his prisoner.

"Need I state to you--of all living folk--the offences which that
dastard has committed?" he asked, expressing thus the very question that
he was setting himself.

"You need to tell me," she answered, "by what right you constitute
yourself his judge and executioner; by what right you send him to his
death in this peremptory fashion, without trial." Her manner was as
stern as if she were invested with all the authority of a judge.

"But you," he faltered in his ever-growing bewilderment, "you, Rosamund,
against whom he has offended so grievously, surely you should be the
last to ask me such a question! Why, it is my intention to proceed
with him as is the manner of the sea with all knaves taken as Oliver
Tressilian was taken. If your mood be merciful towards him--which as God
lives, I can scarce conceive--consider that this is the greatest mercy
he can look for."

"You speak of mercy and vengeance in a breath, Sir John." She was
growing calm, her agitation was quieting and a grim sternness was
replacing it.

He made a gesture of impatience. "What good purpose could it serve to
take him to England?" he demanded. "There he must stand his trial, and
the issue is foregone. It were unnecessarily to torture him."

"The issue may be none so foregone as you suppose," she replied. "And
that trial is his right."

Sir John took a turn in the cabin, his wits all confused. It was
preposterous that he should stand and argue upon such a matter with
Rosamund of all people, and yet she was compelling him to it against his
every inclination, against common sense itself.

"If he so urges it, we'll not deny him," he said at last, deeming it
best to humour her. "We'll take him back to England if he demands it,
and let him stand his trial there. But Oliver Tressilian must realize
too well what is in store for him to make any such demand." He passed
before her, and held out his hands in entreaty. "Come, Rosamund, my
dear! You are distraught, you...."

"I am indeed distraught, Sir Jo