ed his flask
with a leer. He turned his eye uncertainly first on me, then on my Lord.
"We are lately from Boston, gentlemen, that charnel-house of treason,
and before we leave, my Lord, I must tell them how Mr. Robinson of the
customs served that dog Otis, in the British Coffee House. God's word,
'twas as good as a play."

I know not how many got to their feet at that, for the story of the
cowardly beating of Mr. Otis by Robinson and the army officers had swept
over the colonies, burning like a flame all true-hearted men, Tory and
Whig alike. I wrested my sword from Singleton's hold, and in a trice I
had reached the captain over chairs and table, tearing myself from
Fotheringay on the way. I struck a blow that measured a man on the
floor. Then I drew back, amazed.

I had hit Lord Comyn instead! The captain stood a yard beyond me.

The thing had been so deftly done by the rector of St. Anne's--Comyn
jostled at the proper moment between me and Collinson--that none save me
guessed beyond an accident; least of all my Lord Comyn himself. He was
up again directly and his sword drawn, addressing me.

"Bear witness, my Lord, that I have no desire to fight with you," said I,
with what coolness I could muster. "But there is one here I would give
much for a chance to run through."

And I made a step toward Mr. Allen with such a purpose in my face and
movements that he could not mistake. I saw the blood go from his face;
yet he was no coward to physical violence. But he (or I?) was saved by
the Satan's luck that followed him, for my Lord stepped in between us
with a bow, his cheek red where I had struck him.

"It is my quarrel now, Mr. Carvel," he cried.

"As you please, my Lord," said I.

"It boots not who crosses with him," Captain Collinson put in. "His
Lordship uses the sword better than any here. But it boots not so that
he is opposed by a loyal servant of the King."

I wheeled on him for this.

"I would have you know that loyalty does not consist in outrage and
murder, sir," I answered, "nor in the ridiculing of them. And brutes
cannot be loyal save through interest."

He was angered, as I had desired. I had hopes then of shouldering the
quarrel on to him, for I had near as soon drawn against my own brother as
against Comyn. I protest I loved him then as one with whom I had been
reared.

"Let me deal with this young gamecock, Comyn," cried the captain, with an
oath. "He seems to think his importance sufficient.