"I think," answered Matthews, "we had better give the young man a day to tell us what he knows. This letter proves that there are worse traitors, and more powerful ones, behind him. It is our duty to at least try and reach them through their emissary." "He will never tell." "The shadow of the gallows is a great persuader. This cipher message is a most important affair. I propose to make the sentence of death to-morrow at sunset, with the promise of life if he gives us the information we want." Matthews carried his point, and Neil Semple arrived at the court house just as the sentence in accord with this opinion was pronounced. Harry hardly appeared to notice it; his gaze was fixed upon his father. The words had transfigured, not petrified him. His soul was at his eyes, and that fiery particle went through those on whom he looked and infected them with fear or with sympathy. He had risen to his feet when his son did, and every one looked at him, rather than at the prisoner. For mental, or spiritual, stature is as real a thing as physical; and in the day of trial this large-souled man, far from shrinking, appeared to grow more imposing. He had a look about him of a mountain among hills. The accepted son of a divine Father, he knew himself to be of celestial race, and he scorned the sentence of shameful death that had fallen from the lips of man upon his only son. As he turned to the door he smiled bravely on Harry, and his smile was full of promise. He declined all help from both Medway and Semple, and was almost the first to leave the room. The crowd fell away from him as he passed; though he neither spoke nor moved his hands, it fell away as if he pushed it aside. Yet it was a pitiful, friendly crowd; not a man in it but would have gladly helped him to save his boy's life. "What will he do?" asked Medway of his companion. "I cannot tell," answered Semple. "He has some purpose, for he walks like a man who knows what he intends and is in a hurry to perform it." "This is a very bad case. I see not how, in any ordinary way, the young man can be saved. You are a lawyer, what think you?" "Unless there are extraordinary ways of helping him; there are no ordinary ones. He is undoubtedly a rebel spy. Any court, either police or court-martial, would consider his life justifiably forfeit." "Have you any influence, secret or open?" "None whatever. If I had, we should not have been fined. Bradley may have, but I doubt it." "I think he has. Men are not silent and observant year after year for nothing. But we must not trust to Bradley. Can I see Miss Semple at seven o'clock this evening? I know, madame your mother is averse to Englishmen, but in this case----" "Miss Semple will certainly see you."