"A pretty sight for our friend the enemy," he said quietly; "the captain cuffing the scarecrow, and the scarecrow shaking the captain. Get up sir! Here comes their general to reason with you." But Dick, white with passion, struggled to his feet only to rush down the stairs, saying: "You can answer him yourself, you beast! you beast! I'll never speak to you again. I'll never come near you again." The door crashed behind him, and Giles, in his rags, with a clouded face, was left to speak to the enemy alone. "Now, my man," began the general in a blustering tone, "this is some little jest, I perceive. Believe me, 'tis ill fooling with me unless you are prepared for consequences." "'Who sups with the devil should have a long spoon'," said Giles. "I'm prepared. See the walls. We are here. If you want to punish us, you must get at us. To get at us you must scale our walls. If you try that we shall shoot you. Pray, begin." "I was told," said the Puritan imperturbably, and sawing the air with his forefinger, "that this house would be delivered up to me to-night by one Giles, a stableman in rags. You're in rags. Don't deny it, sirrah! I can see them from here." One of the officers laughed behind his gauntlet, for the wind flapped Giles's garments mockingly. "John Dent told you that in the Checkers Inn at Lumley. I heard him," said Giles. "Don't stand prating there, fool! Come down and let us in," shouted a choleric little man riding beside the general. "My orders are to keep you out," said Giles. "Whose orders?" shrilled the little man. "Whose orders?" echoed the general. "Richard Chester's, the Captain of Dent." Dick, crouching behind the door below, heard and wondered. Giles might have left him out of it all when he had made him so furious, and struck at him so hard. Arguments, and explanations, and suggestions passed below amongst the officers. Commands to surrender, mixed with threats of hanging, ultimately, were wafted on the evening breeze to Giles. He replied with a gentle shake of the head, as if too tired to make speeches, until the general came to the end of a perfect storm of abuse and maledictions and insults. Then Dick heard Giles make answer. "Your manners are not nice, sir, and your words are not pleasant. You are angry; to be sure you are. But, consider, anger in such hot weather, in a man with your neckband, may lead to an apoplexy. Let me recommend a cold supper, with light potations. Good-night." Dick fled down the stairs, because he was laughing, and felt that Giles ought not to see that. He avoided his lieutenant in gloomy silence. He saw him go down to prepare supper, and he lurked in the hall in the gathering twilight. Giles went to the yard-door and looked out; he came to the hall-door and looked in. "Supper's ready, your honour," he said drily. Dick took no notice. Half an hour passed, and he sat in the dark, holding out dismally against the hunger that begged him to eat.