Janice struggled to free herself as Brereton tried to caress her the third time. "Don't," she protested. "You--I-- How dare you?" "A pretty question to ask an ardent lover and a desperate man, whose beloved confesses her passion by coming to him!" "I didn't!" expostulated the girl, as, desperate with mortification, she broke away from the embrace by sheer strength and fled to the other side of the barn. "How dare you think such things of me?" "Then for what came you?" inquired Jack. "To warn you." "Of what?" "That you must not bring Joggles back, for they--the soldiers--are watching the stable." "You told them?" The girl faltered, hating to acknowledge her mistake, now that it was remedied. "If I had, why should I take the risk and the shame of coming here?" she replied. "Forgive me, Miss Janice, for doubting you, and for my freedom just now. I did--for the moment I thought you like other women. I wanted to think you came to me, even though it cheapened you. And being desperate, I--" "Why?" questioned the girl. "I have failed in my mission, thanks to Lee's folly and selfishness. Would to God the troopers who lie in wait for me would go after him! A quick raid would do it, for he lies eight miles from his army, and with no guard worth a thought. There 'd be a fine prize, if the British did but know it." "Thanks for the suggestion," spoke up a deep voice, and at the first word blankets were tossed off two lanterns, followed by a rush of men. For a moment there was a wild hurly-burly, and then Brereton's voice cried, "I yield!" As the confusion ended as suddenly as it had begun, he added scornfully:-- "To treachery!" XXXI AN EXCHANGE OF PRISONERS The prisoner's arms were hurriedly tied and he was mounted behind one of the troopers. Janice, meanwhile, who had been seized by Philemon and drawn to one side out of the struggle, besought permission of her special captor to speak to Brereton, her fright over the surprise and her dread of what was to come both forgotten in the horror and misery the last words of the aide caused her. The jealousy of the lover, united to the strictness of the soldier, made Philemon heedless of her prayers and tears, and finally, when the cavalcade was ready to start, she was forced to mount her namesake, and, with such seat as she could keep in the man's saddle, ride between Colonel Harcourt and Hennion. No better fortune awaited her at Greenwood, the captive being taken to the kitchen, while the culprit was escorted to the parlour, to stand, shivering, frightened, and tearful, as her father and mother berated her for most of the sins of the Decalogue. Fortunately for the maid, other hearts were not so sternly disapproving; and Lord Clowes, after waiting till the girl's distress was finding expression in breathless sobs, in order that she might be the more properly grateful, at last interfered.