d savage and unforgiving.
You knew the wild blade of a half-score years ago, and now you'd make
the grown man pay scot and lot for that same youngster's misdeeds. Have
you never a touch of human kindliness in you?"

To know how this affected me you must turn back to that place where I
have tried to picture out this man for you. I said he had a gift to turn
a woman's head or touch her heart. I should have said that he could use
this gift at will on any one. For the moment I forgot his cool disposal
of me in the talk with Captain Stuart; forgot how he had lied to make me
out a spy and so had brought me to this pass.

So I could only say: "You killed my friend, Frank Falconnet, and--"

"Tush!" said he. "That quarrel died nine years ago. Your reviving of it
now is but a mask."

"For what?" I asked.

"For your just resentment in sweet Margery's behalf. Believe it or not,
as you like, but I could love you for that blow you gave me, John
Ireton. I had been losing cursedly at cards that day, and mine host's
wine had a dash of usquebaugh in it, I dare swear. At any rate, I knew
not what it was I said till Tybee said it over for me."

"But the next morning you took a cur's advantage of me on this very spot
and ran me through," I countered.

"Name it what you will and let it go at that. There was murder in your
eye, and you are the better swordsman. You put me upon it for my life,
and when you gave me leave, I did not kill you, as I might."

"No; you reserved me for this."

He took a step nearer and seemed strangely agitated.

"You forced my hand, John Ireton," he said, speaking low that the others
might not hear. "You had her ear from day to day and used your
privilege against me. As an enemy who merely sought my life for
vengeance's sake I could spare you; but as a rival--"

I laughed, and sanity began to come again. "Make an end of it," I said.
"I'd rather hear the muskets speak than you."

For reply he took a folded paper from his pocket and spread and held it
so that I might read. It was a letter from my Lord Cornwallis, directing
Captain Falconnet to send his prisoner, Captain John Ireton, sometime
lieutenant in the Royal Scots Blues, under guard to his Lordship's
headquarters in South Carolina.

"Can you read it?" he asked.

I nodded.

"Well, this supersedes the colonel's sentence. If I say the word to
Ensign Farquharson you will be remanded."

"To be shot or hanged a little later, I suppose?"

"No. Ha