Nicholas, shocked and alarmed, tried to soothe the wretched man—“That is a question I can hardly answer, for I am no divine; but I should think you might be, if you are really sorry for what you were going to do. One thing I am sure of, the best way of making amends for your crime is to confess all you know.” “I know no more,” replied the poor fellow. “Our leaders never told us any more than I have just said, that we were to attack the place to-morrow between nine and ten o’clock, by which time we thought people would be beginning to go to bed.” Nicholas having thus ascertained all that could be extracted from the wounded man, considered that between the present hour and the morrow’s night there was but little time for communication with Warenne, on whom the safety of the town depended, and he became anxious to depart; but Clarke, seizing his hand, exclaimed— “Pray, sir, don’t leave! I am no ways prepared for death.” Nicholas observed to him, “Clarke, if I do not go, I cannot prevent the attack, and your confession will do no good.” “Oh no!” replied Clarke, withdrawing his grasp, “nor me no good neither. I had forgot that—go sir, go—but no—stay one moment. Oh, sir, when I am gone, don’t give me up—don’t let people know as I ever split; they would murder my wife and children. And do you, Martha—pray, sir, call my wife—Martha, I say, I charge you never, as you value your life, tell a soul as Mr. John has been here to-day.” The poor frightened woman promised acquiescence. “Now then go, sir,” said he; “God bless you! I will try and pray.” Nicholas immediately made the best of his way to the Plashetts, sent off an express to Seaforth, and himself started for Calbury on the best horse in his stable. Warenne listened patiently to Nicholas’s story, for he knew well that the quickest mode of obtaining the truth from any man is to let him speak what he has to say in his own manner. At its close he seemed for a moment to be lost in thought, then, turning to Nicholas, he asked him if he had seen a magistrate, or could say that he was sent by any magistrate to ask the assistance of the soldiery. Nicholas replied in the negative, and Warenne began to pace up and down the room in deep thought, and apparently under much anxiety. At last he stopped, and exclaimed, “Well, then, I must take the responsibility on myself. Communication with head-quarters is impossible. I must disobey orders, and abide the consequences: I cannot, for any hazard to myself, suffer a town to be burnt, and its inhabitants to be massacred.” He rang the bell; and bade his servant send Captain Harris to him, and also his brother; and he resumed his meditative walk, until it flashed across him that he was treating Nicholas with great inhospitality.