Not, though it were for his life, would he urge one plea before this man; his pride forbade him to stoop to entreat the favour of one whose vengeance he so utterly despised. Without a word he handed his sword to Captain Harrington, and turned to accompany him from the room. "Where is he to be lodged, Colonel?" inquired Captain Harrington doubtfully. "In the guard-house?" Colonel Kirke hesitated. "No," he muttered to himself. "’Tis not secure enough. The fellow is too devilish popular with the men. I scarce think my lambs would dare to revolt, but yet there might be an escape. I’ll not risk it. I must ask you to keep the prisoner for me till to-morrow," he added aloud, turning to the governor of the prison, who was seated among the officers at the lower end of the table. The governor shrugged his shoulders. "I’ faith, we are full enough," he muttered. "Tho’ his lordship has cleared us out a little to-day," he added with a laugh. "Any hole or corner will serve till morning," persisted the Colonel, "so it be secure." "Secure enough; I’ll answer for that," answered the governor as he scribbled an order for imprisonment. He tossed the paper to Captain Harrington, an escort was called, and in a few minutes Captain Protheroe was marching through the silent streets to his prison. He was no coward, yet no man in his inmost heart can jest when he finds himself face to face with a prospect of meeting death. And as he passed by the swinging corpses and trunkless faces hoisted on poles in the market-place, and reflected that in twelve hours he might be even such as they, he was seized with a wild impotent fury against the fate which had brought him to such a helpless pass. Only his soldier’s pride held him from throwing himself desperately upon his guards, and making one last, vain, hopeless struggle for freedom. The distance from the inn to the gaol was not great, and having arrived at their destination, Captain Protheroe was duly handed over to the charge of the head-gaoler, who in the governor’s absence consigned him to one of the large sheds situated near the castle. Then Captain Harrington, having fulfilled his commission, paused to bid his prisoner good-night. "I am grieved about this, Miles," he said anxiously, for the two had been comrades. "But keep up your heart; the Colonel cannot really mean to treat seriously such an affair. Why, zounds, man, none of us have an over-clean record in that respect. He is bound to take some notice of the accusation, of course, and he bears a grudge against you, we know, but it can’t mean more than a night or so in prison." "Do you think so, Will?" answered the prisoner, pressing his outstretched hand. "No, Kirke and I have met before, we know each other. He’s not the man to forgive an injury, and I’ll be hanged if I ask him to; tho’," he added with a smile—"there’s not a doubt on’t I’ll be shot if I don’t."