his plate.

"In the Queen's name," said Mr. Frankland, and looked from the knife to
the young man's white determined face, and down again. A little sobbing
broke from Lady Maxwell.

"It is useless, sir," said the magistrate; "Sir Nicholas, persuade your
guest not to make a useless resistance; we are ten to one; the house has
been watched for hours."

Sir Nicholas took a step forward, his mouth closed and opened again. Lady
Maxwell took a swift rustling step from behind the table, and threw her
arm round the old man's neck. Still none of them spoke.

"Come in," said the magistrate, turning a little. The men outside filed
in, to the number of half a dozen, and two or three more were left in the
hall. All were armed. Mistress Margaret who had stood up with the rest,
sat down again, and rested her head on her hand; apparently completely at
her ease.

"I must beg pardon, Lady Maxwell," he went on, "but my duty leaves me no
choice." He turned to the young man, who, on seeing the officers had laid
the knife down again, and now stood, with one hand on the table, rather
pale, but apparently completely self-controlled, looking a little
disdainfully at the magistrate.

Then Sir Nicholas made a great effort; but his face twitched as he spoke,
and the hand that he lifted to his wife's arm shook with nervousness, and
his voice was cracked and unnatural.

"Sit down, my dear, sit down.--What is all this?--I do not
understand.--Mr. Frankland, sir, what do you want of me?--And who are all
these gentlemen?--Won't you sit down, Mr. Frankland and take a glass of
wine. Let me make Mr. Stewart known to you." And he lifted a shaking hand
as if to introduce them.

The magistrate smiled a little on one side of his mouth.

"It is no use, Sir Nicholas," he said, "this gentleman, I fear, is well
known to some of us already.--No, no, sir," he cried sharply, "the window
is guarded."

Mr. Stewart, who had looked swiftly and sideways across at the window,
faced the magistrate again.

"I do not know what you mean, sir," he said. "It was a lad who passed the
window."

There was a movement outside in the hall; and the magistrate stepped to
the door.

"Who is there?" he cried out sharply.

There was a scuffle, and a cry of a boy's voice; and a man appeared,
holding Anthony by the arm.

Mistress Margaret turned round in her seat; and said in a perfectly
natural voice, "Why, Anthony, my lad!"

There was a murmur from one or two of the