“We will answer for ourselves whatever we do,” Galmoy answered. “But remember, the toast is waiting, and no man in my presence will refuse to drink to the health of His Majesty.” “I will not drink it, and no man living will force me. I have already given you my reasons.” “In good time,” said Galmoy, “we shall see. How say you, Major? Do you recognize this stiff-necked Whig as being lately in the service of His Majesty?” “On that head,” was the answer, “I have no doubt. He was lodged at the Bunch of Grapes hard by the Castle, and though we were not intimate, I have seen him too frequently to be mistaken.” “Then, by Heaven, the cup of his transgression is full and the provost-marshal must see that he drinks it. I will take the matter on my own shoulders and answer for it to whomsoever may question me. Look you, sergeant, take the prisoner without, and see that he drinks that measure of wine. A lighted match, if properly applied, will bring him to reason. In the morning you will see that he is shot before the door an hour before we march, for I do not like these things arranged hurriedly. For the other ´twere a pity he should not bear him company. Let them both go together.” Weakened as he was by the loss of blood, and unstrung by the ordeal he had just passed through, Gervase tottered and fell on the bench beside which he had been standing. The room swam round him, and though he strove against it he felt that his senses were rapidly failing him. He would have fallen upon the floor, but De Laprade springing forward and placing his arm round him, supported him on the seat. Then the Vicomte turned to Galmoy. “I have said nothing, my Lord, because I did not wish to interfere, as I thought your Lordship would have treated this gentleman as a fair prisoner of war. It is now my duty to speak; I trust your Lordship will hear me.” Galmoy had now recovered his temper and answered De Laprade with a show of courtesy. “Certainly, my dear Vicomte, there is no one to whom I listen with greater pleasure. But I trust you will not ask me to alter this little arrangement.” “You will pardon me; I have told you that I am under an obligation to this gentleman, and but for that obligation I should have been lying beside Luttrel on the high-road. I always endeavour to pay my debts of honour, and if need be I borrow from my friends to discharge them.” “Faith! my creditors will tell you that I find it hard enough to discharge my own.” “When the fight was over, the captain who has escaped showed a great mind to pistol me, when this Monsieur Orme, at great peril to his life, for I apprehended a pretty quarrel, stepped between us and compelled him to forbear. To him I owe my life, and I should be wanting in gratitude if I failed to avow the service he has done me.”