ith a sharp jerk snapped it off at
the hilt. Then he concealed the steel within his long boot and cast the
hilt through the loophole.

Presently a soldier brought him his breakfast--a manchet of bread and
a stoup of wine. He was visited again at dinner and supper. Before the
soldier came in the first time Malcolm concealed his sword in the straw,
thinking that the soldier would be sure to remove it if he noticed it.
The man who brought his breakfast and dinner was taciturn, and made
no reply to his questions, but another man brought his supper, and he
turned out of a more communicative disposition.

"What has happened?" he repeated in reply to Malcolm's question. "Well,
I don't know much about it myself, but I do know that Wallenstein is
dead, for the trooper who rides next to me helped to kill him. Everyone
is content that the traitor has been punished, and as the troops have
all pronounced for the emperor every thing is quiet. We had a good
laugh this afternoon. The colonel sent out one of our men dressed up in
Wallenstein's livery to meet the Duke of Saxe-Lauenburg and invite him
to come on at once and join him here. The duke suspected no danger, and
rode on ahead of his troops, with a few attendants, and you should have
seen his face, when, after passing through the gates, he suddenly found
himself surrounded by our men and a prisoner. Bernhard of Saxe-Weimar
will be here tomorrow, as they say, and we shall catch him in the same
way. It's a rare trap this, I can tell you."

The news heightened Malcolm's uneasiness. The capture of Duke Bernhard,
the most brilliant of the German generals on the Protestant side, would
be a heavy blow indeed to the cause, and leaving his supper untasted
Malcolm walked up and down his cell in a fever of rage at his impotence
to prevent so serious a disaster.

At last he ate his supper, and then threw himself upon the straw, but he
was unable to sleep. The death of Wallenstein had made a deep impression
upon him. The Imperialist general was greatly respected by his foes. Not
only was he admired for his immense military talents, but he carried on
the war with a chivalry and humanity which contrasted strongly with the
ferocity of Tilly, Pappenheim, and Piccolomini. Prisoners who fell into
his hands were always treated with courtesy, and although, from motives
of policy, he placed but little check upon the excesses of his soldiery,
no massacres, such as those which had caused the names of