Jeffreys sprang to his feet, trembling with fury, and roared out a torrent of oaths that startled even the accustomed ears of his hearer. But Captain Protheroe did not change a tittle of his cool, resolute mien. He knew his man, and knew well that the only way to master such as he was to meet insolence with insolence, and rage with cool contempt. "To the guardhouse with the insolent fellow," shouted Jeffreys, glaring with passion. "Away with him!" "You forget, my lord," shouted the officer, endeavouring vainly to win a hearing; "I do not come empty-handed, I bring my price." But the Judge was beside himself with fury, and Captain Protheroe had hardly escaped immediate arrest, had not the secretary stepped quickly forward and whispered a few words in his master’s ear. At first he could gain no attention, but gradually the storm subsided, the judge’s fury wavered before the calm indifference of the soldier, and after a moment’s silence he submitted sulkily to his secretary’s persuasion. "Well! Well! Jewars. I will hear him," he muttered. "Look you, sir, say clearly what has brought you here. You claim to have information to give. What is it? What have you to offer?" "Two letters, my lord." "Letters!" The judge started forward, grasping the table with his hands, his eyes glaring at the officer. "Letters, say you?" "Aye, my lord," answered the officer nonchalantly. "Certain letters of your lordship’s own hand, which have come into my possession. They are, I venture to believe, a most sufficient guarantee for my trust in your clemency." Jeffreys dropped his hands and fell back into his chair, his eyes fixed on the speaker with horrible intensity. His fingers moved nervously and his lips twitched. Jewars touched him on the shoulder, and with a start he recovered himself. "Show me the letters!" he snarled abruptly. Captain Protheroe drew the papers from his breast, and handed them across the table. He was purposely deliberate in his movements, revelling in the anxiety of the judge’s face. There was a dead silence in the room while Judge Jeffreys perused the letters. He bent his head low over the paper, therefore his face was hidden from the officer, who waited breathless for the pronouncement upon the contents. At length after a long pause, the judge raised his head. His face was calm, his voice as usual loud and raucous. He eyed the officer firmly. "These"—he said slowly, tapping the papers—"these are forgeries." A sudden cold chill crept round Captain Protheroe’s heart. He stared at the judge in amazement, in slowly rising despair. "Forgeries, sir," said Jeffreys again coldly. "Have you no more to say?" But even while he spake, Captain Protheroe noted, though the face and voice were calm, yet the hand which held the letter trembled till the paper shook like an aspen leaf. He noted this, and took fresh courage from the sight. "Pardon me, my lord," he drawled politely; "not forgeries, but—er—copies."