tood over Elsa crouched to the ground in a corner of the niche, her
face hidden in her hands, upon the terrible blue eyes of Martin alight
with a dreadful fire of rage. Then there came the sound of marching
men, and a company of Spaniards appeared before them, and at their
head--Ramiro and Adrian called van Goorl.

"There they are, captain," said a soldier, one of those who had fled;
"shall we shoot them?"

Ramiro looked, carelessly enough at first, then again a long,
scrutinising look. So he had caught them at last! Months ago he had
learned that Elsa had been rescued from the Red Mill by Foy and Martin,
and now, after much seeking, the birds were in his net.

"No," he said, "I think not. Such desperate characters must be reserved
for separate trial."

"Where can they be kept, captain?" asked the sergeant sulkily.

"I observed, friend, that the house which my son and I have taken as
our quarters has excellent cellars; they can be imprisoned there for the
present--that is, except the young lady, whom the Senor Adrian will look
after. As it chances, she is his wife."

At this the soldiers laughed openly.

"I repeat--his wife, for whom he has been searching these many months,"
said Ramiro, "and, therefore, to be respected. Do you understand, men?"

Apparently they did understand, at least no one made any answer. Their
captain, as they had found, was not a man who loved argument.

"Now, then, you fellows," went on Ramiro, "give up your arms."

Martin thought a while. Evidently he was wondering whether it would not
be best to rush at them and die fighting. At that moment, as he said
afterwards indeed, the old saying came into his mind, "A game is not
lost until it is won," and remembering that dead men can never have
another chance of winning games, he gave up the sword.

"Hand that to me," said Ramiro. "It is a curious weapon to which I have
taken a fancy."

So sword Silence was handed to him, and he slung it over his shoulder.
Foy looked at the kneeling Elsa, and he looked at his sword. Then an
idea struck him, and he looked at the face of Adrian, his brother, whom
he had last seen when the said Adrian ran to warn him and Martin at the
factory, for though he knew that he was fighting with his father among
the Spaniards, during the siege they had never met. Even then, in
that dire extremity, with a sudden flash of thought he wondered how
it happened that Adrian, being the villain that he was, had taken the
tr