a clear twenty
feet out, with a broad wooden stair leading down from the further side.
In the centre stood a headsman's block, all haggled at the top, and
smeared with rust-coloured stains.

"I think it is time that we left," said Amos Green.

"Our work is all in vain, Amos," said De Catinat sadly.

"Whatever our fate may be--and this looks ill enough--we can but submit
to it like brave men."

"Tut, man; the window is clear! Let us make a rush for it."

"It is useless. I can see a line of armed men along the further side
of the yard."

"A line! At this hour!"

"Yes; and here come more. See, at the centre gate! Now what in the
name of heaven is this?"

As he spoke the door which faced them opened and a singular procession
filed out. First came two dozen footmen, walking in pairs, all carrying
halberds, and clad in the same maroon-coloured liveries. After them a
huge bearded man, with his tunic off, and the sleeves of his coarse
shirt rolled up over his elbows, strode along with a great axe over his
left shoulder. Behind him, a priest with an open missal pattered forth
prayers, and in his shadow was a woman, clad in black, her neck bared,
and a black shawl cast over her head and drooping in front of her bowed
face. Within grip of her walked a tall, thin, fierce-faced man, with
harsh red features, and a great jutting nose. He wore a flat velvet cap
with a single eagle feather fastened into it by a diamond clasp, which
gleamed in the morning light. But bright as was his gem, his dark eyes
were brighter still, and sparkled from under his bushy brows with a mad
brilliancy which bore with it something of menace and of terror.
His limbs jerked as he walked, his features twisted, and he carried
himself like a man who strives hard to hold himself in when his whole
soul is aflame with exultation. Behind him again twelve more
maroon-clad retainers brought up the rear of this singular procession.

The woman had faltered at the foot of the scaffold, but the man behind
her had thrust her forward with such force that she stumbled over the
lower step, and would have fallen had she not clutched at the arm of the
priest. At the top of the ladder her eyes met the dreadful block, and
she burst into a scream, and shrunk backwards. But again the man thrust
her on, and two of the followers caught her by either wrist and dragged
her forwards.

"Oh, Maurice! Maurice!" she screamed. "I am not fit to die!
Oh, forgive m