was pretending to be terrified he acted marvellously well. It
seemed to Neal that he really was afraid of something, perhaps of some
sudden betrayal of his treachery, of vengeance taken speedily by Hope.

"What ails you?" said Hope. "You needn't be frightened."

"The cartridges, the cartridges," wailed Finlay. "Kelso knows they are
here."

"If that's all," said Hope, "Neal Ward and I will ease you of them. We
came here to take them away."

"You can't, you can't, you mustn't. They'd hang you on the nearest lamp
iron if they saw you with the cartridges."

There was a bang on the door and a moment later a knocking on the window
of the room, and then a woman's fate was pressed against the glass. Hope
sprang across the room and flung open the window. The servant woman who
had gone to see the flogging pushed her head into the room and said--

"They're taking down Kelso, and he's telling all he knows. Major Barber
and the soldiers are getting ready to march. It's down here they'll be
coming."

"It's time for us to be off, then," said Hope.

"Come along, Neal, down to the cellar, and let us get the cartridges."

James Finlay followed them downstairs, begging them not to attempt to
carry off the cartridges. He held Hope by the arm as he spoke.

"Don't do it," he said, "for God's sake don't do it. The soldiers are
coming. They will be here in a minute. They will meet you. They will
hang you. I know they will hang you. Oh! for God's sake go away at once
while you have time. Leave the cartridges."

Hope shook off the grip on his arm with a gesture of impatience. He
pushed open the cellar door.

"Now, Neal," he said, "pick up as many of the cases as you think you can
carry."

James Finlay turned from Hope and seized Neal by the hands. The man was
trembling from head to foot; his face was deadly white; the sweat was
trickling down his cheeks in little streams.

"Don't let him. Oh! don't let him. He won't listen to me. Stop him. Make
him fly."

He fell on his knees on the floor and clasped Neal's legs. He grovelled.
There was no possibility of doubting the reality of his emotion. This
was not acting. The terror was genuine. James Finlay was desperately
frightened.

"Get out of my way. No one is going to hurt you in any case."

"It's not that," he said. "Believe me if you can. Believe me as you hope
to be saved. I can't, I won't see _him_ hanged. I can't bear it."

He was speaking the literal truth. He believed t