t than ours, I was taken in to see Sir Travers
Carew. He had just sent off the prisoner to Honkon, much as he would
have brushed a fly from his hand. He had that satisfaction with himself,
that feeling of having supported the right, which comes to all those who
do cruel things in the name of that code of unjust cruelty, the criminal
law. He looked at me with rather a grim smile, which made me squirm.

"So," he said, "this is the young rebel, is it? Do you know that I could
send you off to Honiton gaol with that poor fellow there?" This made my
heart die; but something prompted me to put a good face on it.

"Sir," I said, "I have done what my father thought right. I don't wish
to be treated better than any other prisoner. Send me to Honiton, sir."

"No," he said, looking at me kindly. "I shall not send you to Honiton.
You are not in arms against the King's peace, nor did you come over from
Holland with the Duke. I can't send you to Honiton. Besides, I knew your
father, Martin. I was at college with him. He was a good friend of
mine, poor fellow. No, sir, I shall keep you here till the Duke's crazy
attempt is knocked on the head. I think I can find something better for
you to do than that fussy old maid, your uncle, could. But, remember,
sir. You have a reputation for being a slippery young eel. I shall take
particular pains to keep you from slipping out of my hands. But I do not
wish to use force to your father's son. Will you give me your word not
to try to escape?"

"No," I answered, sullenly. "I won't. I mean to get away directly I
can."

"Come," he said kindly, "we tricked you rather nastily. But do you
suppose, Martin, that your father, if he were here, would encourage your
present resolutions? The Duke is coming (nearly unprepared) to bring a
lot of silly yokels into collision with fully trained soldiers ten times
more numerous. If the countryside, the gentry, the educated, intelligent
men, were ready for the Duke, or believed in his cause, they would join
him. They do not join him. His only adherents are the idle, ignorant,
ill-conditioned rogues of this county, who will neither fight nor obey,
when it comes to the pinch. I do not love the present King, Martin, but
he is a better man than this Duke. The Duke will never make a king. He
may be very fit for court-life; but there is not an ounce of king in
him. If the Duke succeeds, in a year or two he will show himself so
foolish that we shall have to send for th