rdship,
who had now recovered consciousness, showed considerable alarm, and the
battle-stained Jeremy Pitt sped to cover in a clothes-press. Baynes was
uneasy, and his wife and daughter trembled. Mr. Blood reassured them.

"Why, what's to fear?" he said. "It's a Christian country, this, and
Christian men do not make war upon the wounded, nor upon those who
harbour them." He still had, you see, illusions about Christians.
He held a glass of cordial, prepared under his directions, to his
lordship's lips. "Give your mind peace, my lord. The worst is done."

And then they came rattling and clanking into the stone-flagged hall--a
round dozen jack-booted, lobster-coated troopers of the Tangiers
Regiment, led by a sturdy, black-browed fellow with a deal of gold lace
about the breast of his coat.

Baynes stood his ground, his attitude half-defiant, whilst his wife
and daughter shrank away in renewed fear. Mr. Blood, at the head of the
day-bed, looked over his shoulder to take stock of the invaders.

The officer barked an order, which brought his men to an attentive halt,
then swaggered forward, his gloved hand bearing down the pummel of
his sword, his spurs jingling musically as he moved. He announced his
authority to the yeoman.

"I am Captain Hobart, of Colonel Kirke's dragoons. What rebels do you
harbour?"

The yeoman took alarm at that ferocious truculence. It expressed itself
in his trembling voice.

"I... I am no harbourer of rebels, sir. This wounded gentleman...."

"I can see for myself." The Captain stamped forward to the day-bed, and
scowled down upon the grey-faced sufferer.

"No need to ask how he came in this state and by his wounds. A damned
rebel, and that's enough for me." He flung a command at his dragoons.
"Out with him, my lads."

Mr. Blood got between the day-bed and the troopers.

"In the name of humanity, sir!" said he, on a note of anger. "This is
England, not Tangiers. The gentleman is in sore case. He may not be
moved without peril to his life."

Captain Hobart was amused.

"Oh, I am to be tender of the lives of these rebels! Odds blood! Do you
think it's to benefit his health we're taking him? There's gallows being
planted along the road from Weston to Bridgewater, and he'll serve
for one of them as well as another. Colonel Kirke'll learn these
nonconforming oafs something they'll not forget in generations."

"You're hanging men without trial? Faith, then, it's mistaken I am.
We're in