“The time is up and you have not answered an honest question. Now, lads, we´ll see if this heretic rogue can do anything but prate. It seems to me he looks a strolling player and may be one for all I know.” So saying he deftly threw the rope round the thick branch that grew over the road, and placed his hand on the prisoner´s shoulder. Up to this time Dorothy could not believe that he meant to carry out his savage threat, but she saw now that this was no mere jest but a matter of life and death. The business was evidently to the taste of the troopers, and two of them laid aside their firelocks and placed their hands upon the rope. Then she sprang forward and caught the sergeant by the arm. “You do not mean what you say,” she cried, “he has never wronged you, nor have I, and had it not been for me and the dead old man yonder, he had not been in your power now. For my sake, for God´s sake, you will not injure him.” The man seemed touched for a minute, so wild was she, and so beautiful, in her despair, and then he shook her off roughly. “Women have nothing to do in these affairs. Two of you fellows take her away, and leave us to finish this business in peace. Now, make haste about the matter, and get this damnable job out of hand. We must look after the other fellow before night comes down.” Dorothy turned white and faint, and seemed like to have fallen on the road as Gervase held out his hand to her and said, with a lump in his throat, “Good-bye, Miss Carew, I regret quitting life less than leaving you in this company, but my last prayer on earth is for your safety. Could my life have brought you help, I should have given it up without regret.” Then she broke down utterly, and they led her away, with her face buried in her hands. Suddenly, at that moment there was heard the sound of a horse coming rapidly along the road, and the men who were busied placing the noose round Gervase´s neck, stopped short in their work. Dorothy heard the sound also, and looked up. An officer, apparently of distinguished rank, accompanied by a couple of dragoons, was advancing at a rapid trot. His military cloak, richly embroidered, was thrown open, and showed a burnished cuirass underneath. His broad-brimmed hat adorned with a single white feather, nearly concealed his face. As he approached, Dorothy struggled in the hands of the man who held her and freeing herself, ran swiftly down the road to meet him. As he came up he reined in his black charger. “Thank God!” she cried, “you have come in time. You, at least, are a gentleman, and you will save him.” “I hope, madam, I am a gentleman,” he said, with a high, courteous manner and in a voice that was at once strong and musical. “I shall examine into this matter, and if I can in duty and in honour render you this service, you may rely upon me.”