ieve it, went back, up to his
elbows in blood, and vaunted his deeds to the Spaniards, and asked
them--'There! Will you take that as a pledge that I am faithful to you?'
And that, my lad, was the end of Henry Davils, and will be of all who
trust to the faith of wild savages."

"I would go a hundred miles to see that Desmond hanged!" said Amyas,
while great tears ran down his face. "Poor Mr. Davils! And now, what is
the story of Sir Thomas?"

"Your brother must tell you that, lad; I am somewhat out of breath."

"And I have a right to tell it," said Frank, with a smile. "Do you know
that I was very near being Earl of the bog of Allen, and one of the
peers of the realm to King Buoncompagna, son and heir to his holiness
Pope Gregory the Thirteenth?"

"No, surely!"

"As I am a gentleman. When I was at Rome I saw poor Stukely often; and
this and more he offered me on the part (as he said) of the Pope, if I
would just oblige him in the two little matters of being reconciled to
the Catholic Church, and joining the invasion of Ireland."

"Poor deluded heretic," said Will Cary, "to have lost an earldom for
your family by such silly scruples of loyalty!"

"It is not a matter for jesting, after all," said Frank; "but I saw Sir
Thomas often, and I cannot believe he was in his senses, so frantic was
his vanity and his ambition; and all the while, in private matters as
honorable a gentleman as ever. However, he sailed at last for Ireland,
with his eight hundred Spaniards and Italians; and what is more, I
know that the King of Spain paid their charges. Marquis Vinola--James
Buoncompagna, that is--stayed quietly at Rome, preferring that Stukely
should conquer his paternal heritage of Ireland for him while he took
care of the bona robas at home. I went down to Civita Vecchia to see
him off; and though his younger by many years, I could not but take
the liberty of entreating him, as a gentleman and a man of Devon, to
consider his faith to his queen and the honor of his country. There were
high words between us; God forgive me if I spoke too fiercely, for I
never saw him again."

"Too fiercely to an open traitor, Frank? Why not have run him through?"

"Nay, I had no clean life for Sundays, Amyas; so I could not throw away
my week-day one; and as for the weal of England, I knew that it was
little he would damage it, and told him so. And at that he waxed utterly
mad, for it touched his pride, and swore that if the wind had not been