“You are lying, madam!” the landlord cried in his brutal manner; “and, my God! if you lie to me I will rescind my promise, and your husband shall be delivered within the hour into the hands of his enemies. And this fellow, Will Jackson, shall be given up also, as an aider and abettor of dangerous Royalists.” The woman grew white to the lips. “No, no; not that!” she moaned. “Not that! You will not be so cruel--so unmerciful.” “Madam, I will not be trifled with,” said the landlord. “If you do not speak the truth to me, all three of you shall be given up.” “Oh, sir,” she said, trembling like a reed in the wind, “it is indeed the truth. I beg you to believe me.” “I never saw a worse hand at a lie,” said the landlord, with a sneer. “But, ’fore God! you shall pay for it. Joseph, do you come here instantly.” The landlord summoned his son. That rather dismal youth obeyed his father’s call with a resentful alacrity. “Madam,” said the landlord, “I give you one minute by this watch of mine in which to make your decision. Confess the truth, and the twenty-four hours’ respite holds good. Persevere in this monstrous falsehood, and you shall pay for it in your husband’s blood. I have never yet seen the man, let alone the woman, who could trifle with Gamaliel Hooker. And, sirrah, do you heed this also. As I’m a live man, you shall swing in a gibbet for this!” The old man ended in a gust of fury that carried him away. He then said to his son: “I fear me, Joseph, that you must go saddle your horse in a minute. I shall be wanting you to take a message to a certain place I wot of.” The landlord pulled forth his watch and began to count the seconds dramatically. The woman seemed petrified to stone. “I ask you for the last time, madam, what you know of this fellow,” said the implacable landlord. “Refuse to tell me, and it is your unhappy husband, not yourself, who pays the price.” None knew more perfectly than the landlord how to torture her. Again he had the wretched creature on her knees before him; and again he had the privilege of laughing in her face. “Rise, madam,” said Will Jackson. The landlord turned towards him and gazed at him in blank astonishment. It was not so much the drawer’s words, audacious as they were, that had this electrical effect on Gamaliel Hooker. It was the manner of their utterance. They were spoken in a full, calm voice, quiet and self-contained, and one that sounded mighty odd from the mouth of a servant. For, above all, it had a tone that even a bold man would have found it hard to disobey. “Rise, madam,” said the serving-man, and, bending forward towards her, he assisted her to do so. She trembled so violently when she got upon her feet that she could hardly stand. But she kept her face averted from the audacious servitor in a singularly painful way. She seemed afraid to look at him.