wench's flattery. Down on thy knees and crave forgiveness!"

But the master of Dean Tower was thoroughly aroused, and was not to be
cowed by a word. He threw Basil from him, and, wounded and bleeding
though his hand was, he contrived to draw his sword.

"I'll kneel for forgiveness to no man living!" he cried. "Get ye from
my house, or I will drive ye forth!"

Jerome had recovered from his astonishment; he rose up and laid his
hand gently on the young man's shoulder. "Thou art beside thyself for
the nonce, my son. Let us talk calmly. A host does not draw sword on
his guests."

The words were uttered in a smooth, purring tone, and Andrew lowered
his hand. He was glad to do it, for it throbbed with pain, and the
blood was falling in a quick drip to the floor. His head was reeling,
and he spoke stutteringly.

"Ye are not guests of mine; ye are intruders," he cried.

Jerome tried to press him into a chair, but he resisted. "Hands off,
father! I can stand."

The Spaniard made no further attempt to coerce the maddened young
gentleman, but he took a kerchief from his doublet and carefully bound
up the wounded limb.

"A drop of wine, son Basil, for our friend," he said.

Basil went to a cabinet, but Windybank cried out,--

"Touch nothing of mine, thou devil's cub! Dost think I would drink
ought from thy hands! When wilt thou be gone, as I have bidden thee?
If thou dost not quit, I will run thee through."

Jerome saw that the presence of Basil was a continual irritant to the
desperate man, so he himself ordered his satellite to withdraw. Basil
obeyed with no very good grace, and the look that Windybank received
boded ill. Jerome now placed his victim in a cosy chair, threw open
the casement that the fresh breeze from the woods might enter, and
brought the glass of wine he had ordered. Master Andrew drank it, then
lay back with closed eyes, his brain busy with tumultuous thought. The
Spaniard sat and watched him as a wolf might watch a slumbering dog;
his brain was as busy as that of the other. Was his plan doomed to
failure at the last moment? If the master of Dean Tower failed him at
so critical a juncture, he could not see how to proceed. More than
ever did the conspirators require a place of refuge, not only for
themselves, but for others whom Jerome was daily expecting.

Father Jerome got up and quietly left the room, proceeding to an
ante-chamber where he knew Basil was lurking.

"Well?" as