a woman; and vile as had been this man's
life, and deeply as he had injured her and him she loved tenfold more
than her own life, he was still a human creature, and a creature without
a hope either in this world or the world to come. She could not but pity
him as he stood there cowering and shuddering, and she turned swiftly
towards the Prince and spoke to him in a rapid undertone.

Young Edward listened, and the dark cloud passed from his brow. He was
keenly susceptible to the nobler emotions, and an appeal to his
generosity was not unheeded. Raising his hand in token that he demanded
silence, he turned towards the quaking criminal, and thus addressed him:

"Peter Sanghurst, you stand convicted of many and hideous crimes --
witchcraft, sorcery, treachery to your King, vile cruelty to his
subjects -- crimes for which death alone is scarce punishment enough.
You well merit a worse fate than the gallows. You well merit some of
those lingering agonies that you have inflicted upon your wretched
victims, and have rejoiced to witness. But we in England do not torture
our prisoners, and it is England's pride that this is so. This fair
lady, who owes you naught but grievous wrong, has spoken for you; she
says that were Raymond de Brocas here, he would join with her in praying
that your fate might be swift and merciful. Therefore I decree that you
are led forth without the gates of Basildene, and hanged upon the first
tree out of sight of its walls.

"See to it, marshal. Let there be no delay. It is not fit that such a
wretch should longer cumber the earth. Away with him, I say!"

The soldiers closed around the condemned man and bore him forth, one of
the marshals following to see the deed done. Joan had for a moment
covered her face with her hand, for even so it was rather terrible to
see this tyrant and oppressor led forth from his own house to an
ignominious death, and she was unused to such stern scenes. But those
around the table were already turning their attention to other matters,
and the Prince was addressing himself to certain men who had come into
the hall covered with cobweb and green mould.

"Has the treasure been found?" he asked.

"Yes, Sire," answered the leader of this strange-looking band. "It was
cleverly hidden, in all truth, in the cellars of the house, and we
should scarce have lighted on it but for the help of some of the people
here, who, so soon as they heard that their master was doomed to certain