XVI. OF A DEED OF TREACHERY 259 XVII. OF A GREAT ADVENTURE 280 XVIII. OF HOW GERVASE REACHED THE SHIPS 304 XIX. OF A STORMY INTERVIEW 313 XX. OF HOW THE GREAT DELIVERANCE WAS WROUGHT 325 XXI. OF HOW THE VICOMTE MADE HIS GREAT 336 RENUNCIATION ILLUSTRATIONS --- "GERVASE DROPPED NOISELESSLY INTO THE WATER" _Frontispiece_ "THE STRANGER CAUGHT HIS HORSE BY THE REIN" _Facing page_ 62 "SHE STOPPED SHORT AND LOOKED ROUND HER ” 188 CAUTIOUSLY" “JASPER BUCKLING HIS SWORD ABOUT HIM” ” 254 THE CRIMSON SIGN. CHAPTER I. OF WHAT BEFELL ON THE ROAD TO ENNISKILLEN. In the year of grace 1689 men were not a whit more long-suffering nor more patient than they are to-day. The choleric captain who had been pacing the guard-room for a quarter of an hour showed evident signs that he was fast losing what temper he possessed. As he marched with a hasty stride up and down the oaken floor, and wheeled with military abruptness on the broad stone that formed the hearth, the rafters of black oak rang with the clank of his sword and the jingling of the spurs on his heavy jack-boots. He pulled with a gesture of impatience at the grizzled white moustache that concealed his mouth, and muttered anathemas which, had they been heard in the pious city of Londonderry, would have been deemed little in keeping with his reputation. Nor did he seem a man with whom others would take unwarrantable liberties, or keep dangling upon their careless will and pleasure. At first sight there was no mistaking him for anything but a soldier, and one who had seen lengthened service where hard blows had been struck and long marches had to be made. His lean face was brown and seamed with lines, each of which had in all likelihood its history; and a great scar, half concealed by his broad beaver, ran from the temple almost to his chin. His mouth was firm and resolute, giving its character to a face that did not seem apt either to lighten in humour or to soften in pity. He wore his own hair, which was nearly white, and, though he must have been close on sixty, his carriage was upright and soldierly, with a certain stiffness, probably learnt in early life from the drill-master. The Town clock struck five. Halting suddenly in his walk he turned to the door, and his hand was on the latch when a young man entered hurriedly and stumbled against him. When they recovered themselves, they stood looking at one another inquiringly for a moment. Then the young fellow, who wore a military uniform, drew back a step and saluted gravely. “You are Captain Macpherson, I think?”