r some turn of the tide. It
drew towards midnight, and Robin yet babbled of all things under the sun
saving only of a man that had left England now three years agone. At
last Nevil arose, spoke a few words to Arden, who nodded assent; then,
with Powell, moved to the door.

"When will this friar return?" he asked, as they crossed the threshold.

"I do not know," Powell answered. "With the dawn, perhaps. He will not
be long gone."

"Perhaps he will not come at all," said the other. "You say that the boy
is out of danger. Perhaps he hath returned to the Indians whom you say
he teacheth."

Powell shook his head. "Here are too many sick and dying," he said,
simply. "He will come back. I swear to you, Sir John Nevil, that in this
pestilent camp between the city and the sea we do think of this man not
as a Spaniard--if he be Spaniard--nor as monk--if he be monk! He hath
power over this fever, and those whom he cannot cure yet cry out for him
to help them die!"

There was a silence, followed by Sir John's slow speech. "When he
returns send him at once under guard to my quarters--I will make good
the matter with Sir Francis. Speak the man fair, good Powell, give him
gentle treatment, but see to it that he escape you not.... Here are my
men. Good-night."

Three hours later to Nevil, yet dressed, yet sitting deep in thought
within his starlit chamber, came a messenger from the captain of the
watch. "The man whom Sir John Nevil wot of was below. What disposition
until the morning--"

"Bring him to me here," was the answer. "Stay!--there are candles upon
the table. Light one."

The soldier, drawing from his pouch flint, steel, and tinder-box,
obeyed, then saluted and withdrew. There was a short silence, followed
by the sound of feet upon the stone stairs and a knock at the door, and
upon Nevil's "Enter!" by the appearance of a sergeant and several
soldiers--in the midst of them a figure erect, composed, gowned,
and cowled.

The one candle dimly lit the room. "Will you stand aside, sir?" said
Nevil to his captive. "Now, sergeant--"

The sergeant made a brief report.

"Await, you and your men, in the hall below," ordered Nevil. "You have
not bound your prisoner? That is well. Now go, leaving him here alone."

The heavy door closed to. Upon the table stood two great gilt
candelabra bearing many candles, a fragment of the spoil of Cartagena.
Nevil, taking from its socket the one lighted taper, began to apply the
flame t