tten, but what he had bidden me to write.

"I, Norman Leslie of Pitcullo, being now in the article of death, do
attest on my hope of salvation, and do especially desire Madame Jeanne,
La Pucelle, and all Frenchmen and Scots loyal to our Sovereign Lord the
Dauphin, to accept my witness that Brother Thomas, of the Order of St.
Francis, called Noiroufle while of the world, has been most falsely and
treacherously accused by me of divers deeds of black treason, and dealing
with our enemies of England, against our Lord the Dauphin, and the Maid,
the Sister of the Saints, and of this I heartily repent me, as may God
pardon my sins, on the faith of a sinful and dying man. Signed, at
Orleans, Norman Leslie, the younger, of Pitcullo, this eighth of May, in
the year of our Lord fourteen hundred and twenty-nine."

When I had ended, he took away his blasphemous dagger-point from my
throat.

"Very clerkly read," he spake, "and all runs smooth; methinks myself had
been no poor scribe, were I but a clerk. Hadst thou written other
matter, to betray my innocence, thou couldst not remember what I said,
even word for word," he added gleefully. "Now I might strangle thee
slowly"; and he set his fingers about my throat, I being too weak to do
more than clutch at his hand, with a grasp like a babe's. "But that
leaves black finger-marks, another kind of witness than thine in my
favour. Or I might give thee the blade of this blessed crucifix; yet
dagger wounds are like lips and have a voice, and blood cries from the
ground, says Holy Writ. Pardon my tardiness, my poor brother, but this
demands deep thought, and holy offices must not be hurried unseemly." He
sat now with his back to me, his hand still on my throat, so deep in
thought that he heard not, as did my sharpened ears, a door shut softly,
and foot-falls echoing in the house below. If I could only cry aloud!
but he would stifle me ere the cry reached my throat!

"This will serve," he said. "Thou wilt have died of thy malady, and I
will go softly forth, and with hushed voice will tell how the brave young
Scot passed quietly to the saints. Yet, after all, I know not. Thou
hast been sent by Heaven to my aid; clearly thou art an instrument of God
to succour the unworthy Brother Thomas. Once and twice thou hast been a
boat to carry me on my way, and to save my useful life. A third time
thou mightst well be serviceable, not by thy will, alas! but by God's, my
poor brother"; and