“Your expulsion from the council, the liberties of the Red Band, the ruin of your house.” I expected an outbreak of anger in return for these plain words, but none came. Instead, the patroon looked at me with eyes brimful of tears. “You are right. The ruin of my house. If only I could put it off, but I cannot. Miriam, my Miriam, it will fall like death upon you; it is coming, it is coming like a storm.” “But you can stop it. It is not too late.” “It is too late. How can I stop it? I expected the support of my class. They have drawn back. I stand alone. I cannot go back. Where will my honor be if I desert my men? I have led them on in defiance of the law. Can I give them up to justice now? Would you have me play the coward to save myself? The die is cast. The Red Band cannot draw back. I must lead them on. I have no more the power to stop this that I have set my hand to than you have to stop the sun. Can I not see the end? I and the Earl! Who am I? And he has the whole power of England at his back; but I’ll play the bull-dog till I die. I’ll set the horseback rider by the ears. The Red Band is not asleep. Beware, Earl Bellamont, beware. No maid is playing with you now. Do I not see the end? Do you think a man stares ruin in the face and strikes a feeble blow?” His excitement had led him on; but he was showing me a deal more of confidence than he thought wise. He became suddenly more reserved, and then dismissed me abruptly, as if he repented what he had said, and did not know how to get rid of me in any more delicate manner. He gave me a command to wait upon him later in the day. With that I left the room. And so this chapter of my adventure ended; I had been in deadly peril, and I had escaped; but I was in the same uncertain state as before. What would yet come of it? That was my thought, and only time could tell. CHAPTER XX THE SKELETON IN THE PATROON’S CLOSET As I glance over the pages I have just written I wonder whether anyone will believe the record I have set down. So much happened during the first three days of my residence at the manor-house that the recollection of it seems to me now more like some romance of the old time than of life here in New York within the memory of people now alive. Yet these are events not soon forgotten, and every detail clings in my memory as fresh to-day as on the day it happened.