ht run me
through. But I had misjudged him.

"Speak plain, by all means," he replied; "but first let me ask for some
tobacco."

He filled the bowl of his pipe, and sat him down by the window. For the
moment I was silent with sheer surprise.

"You know I can't call you out," he went on, surrounding himself with
clouds of smoke, "a lad of eighteen or so. And even if I could, I
doubt whether I should. I like you, Richard," said he. "You are
straight-spoken and commanding. In brief, sir, you are the kind of lad
I should have been had not fate pushed me into a corner, and made me
squirm for life's luxuries. I hate squirming as much as another. This is
prime tobacco, Richard."

He had come near disarming me; I was on the edge of a dangerous
admiration for this man of the world, and for the life of me, I could
not help liking him then. He had a fine presence, was undeniably
handsome, and his riding clothes were of the latest London cut.

"Are there not better methods for obtaining what you wish than those you
practise?" I asked curiously.

"No doubt," he answered carelessly; "but these are well enough, and
shorter. You were about to do me the honour of a communication?"

This brought me to my senses. I had, however, lost much of my heat in
the interval.

"I should like to know why you lied to Mr. Carvel about my convictions,
Mr. Allen," I said. "I am not of the King's party now, and never shall
be. And you know this better than another."

"Those are strong words, Richard, my lad," said he, bringing his
eyebrows together.

"They are true words," I retorted. "Why did you lie, I say?"

He said nothing for a while, but his breath came heavily.

"I will pass it, I will pass it," he said at length, "but, by God! it
is more than I have had to swallow in all my life before. Look at your
grandfather, sir!" he cried; "behold him on the very brink of the grave,
and ask me again why I lied to him! His hope of heaven is scarce less
sacred to him than his love of the King, and both are so tightly wrapped
about his heart that this knowledge of you would break it. Yes, break
his heart, I say" (and he got to his legs), "and you would kill him for
the sake of a boyish fancy!"

I knew he was acting, as well as though he had climbed upon the table
and said it. And yet he had struck the very note of my own fears, and
hit upon the one reason why I had not confessed lung ago.

"There is more you might have said, Mr. Allen," I remar