a widely yawning grave.

"In the name of God, Sir Percy," he said roughly, as he brought
his clenched fist crashing down upon the table, "this situation is
intolerable. Bring it to an end to-night!"

"Why, sir?" retorted Blakeney, "methought you and your kind did not
believe in God."

"No. But you English do."

"We do. But we do not care to hear His name on your lips."

"Then in the name of the wife whom you love--"

But even before the words had died upon his lips, Sir Percy, too, had
risen to his feet.

"Have done, man--have done," he broke in hoarsely, and despite weakness,
despite exhaustion and weariness, there was such a dangerous look in
his hollow eyes as he leaned across the table that Chauvelin drew back a
step or two, and--vaguely fearful--looked furtively towards the opening
into the guard-room. "Have done," he reiterated for the third time; "do
not name her, or by the living God whom you dared to invoke I'll find
strength yet to smite you in the face."

But Chauvelin, after that first moment of almost superstitious fear, had
quickly recovered his sang-froid.

"Little Capet, Sir Percy," he said, meeting the other's threatening
glance with an imperturbable smile, "tell me where to find him, and
you may yet live to savour the caresses of the most beautiful woman in
England."

He had meant it as a taunt, the final turn of the thumb-screw applied to
a dying man, and he had in that watchful, keen mind of his well weighed
the full consequences of the taunt.

The next moment he had paid to the full the anticipated price. Sir Percy
had picked up the pewter mug from the table--it was half-filled with
brackish water--and with a hand that trembled but slightly he hurled it
straight at his opponent's face.

The heavy mug did not hit citizen Chauvelin; it went crashing against
the stone wall opposite. But the water was trickling from the top of his
head all down his eyes and cheeks. He shrugged his shoulders with a look
of benign indulgence directed at his enemy, who had fallen back into his
chair exhausted with the effort.

Then he took out his handkerchief and calmly wiped the water from his
face.

"Not quite so straight a shot as you used to be, Sir Percy," he said
mockingly.

"No, sir--apparently--not."

The words came out in gasps. He was like a man only partly conscious.
The lips were parted, the eyes closed, the head leaning against the high
back of the chair. For the space of one second Chau