man that's going
to be hanged," replied Valentine, who at supper had heard the ladies
discuss Peyton's intended fate. He thereupon sent a cloud of smoke
ceiling-ward for the flying cherubs to rest on.

"The devil! You _are_ economical!"

"Of words, maybe, not of liquor." The octogenarian quaffed deeply from
the mug. "They say hanging is an easy death," he went on, being in
loquacious mood. "I never saw but one man hanged. He didn't seem to
enjoy it." Mr. Valentine puffed slowly, inwardly dwelling on the
recollection.

"Oh, didn't he?" said Peyton.

"No, he took it most unpleasant like."

"Did you come in here to cheer me up in my last hours?" queried Harry,
putting the empty bowl on the chair by the sofa.

"No," replied the other, ingenuously. "I came in for a smoke while the
ladies stayed at the table." He then went back to a subject that
seemed to have attractions for him. "I don't know how hanging will go
with you. Cunningham will do the work.[5] They say he makes it as
disagreeable as may be. I'd come and see you hanged, but it won't be
possible."

"Then I suppose I shall have to excuse you," said Peyton, with
resignation.

"Yes." The old man had finished his punch and set down his mug, and he
now yawned with a completeness that revealed vastly more of red
toothless mouth than one might have calculated his face could contain.
"Some take it easier than others," he went on. "It's harder with young
men like you." Again he opened his jaws in a gape as whole-souled as
that of a house-dog before a kitchen fire. "It must be disagreeable to
have a rope tightened around your neck. I don't know." He thrust his
pipe-stem absently between his lips, closed his eyes, mumbled
absently, "I don't know," and in a few moments was asleep, his pipe
hanging from his mouth, his hands folded in his lap.

"A cheerful companion for a man in my situation," thought Peyton. His
mind had been brought back to the future. When would this resolute and
vengeful Miss Elizabeth fulfil her threat? How would she proceed about
it? Had she already taken measures towards his conveyance to the
British lines? Should she delay until he should be able to walk, there
would be two words about the matter. Meanwhile, he must wait for
developments. It was useless to rack his brain with conjectures. His
sense of present comfort gradually resumed sway, and he placed his
head again on the sofa pillow and closed his eyes.

He was conscious for a time of n