"Covered with blood." "Most likely," said Quentin, remembering the wound he had received from Cosmo's hand. "All this, Colonel Grant, has nothing to do with the case," urged Warriston, firmly. "It seems to cast grave doubts on the previous character and antecedents of the prisoner." "It seems also to show the peculiar vindictiveness of the prosecution." "You are unwise, Captain Warriston," said the president, severely. "I am here as the friend of the prisoner." "For what reason did you leave the castle of Rohallion?" asked the court. Quentin gazed full at the Master with his eyes flashing so dangerously that this personage, fearing he might be driven to say something which might bring ridicule on him--though Quentin would rather have died than uttered Flora's name there--begged that the first charge might be proceeded with. Sworn across two drawn swords in the Spanish fashion, Baltasar, Trevino, and other guerillas, inspired by spite and hostility, related in succession how Quentin had rescued the French prisoner; how he had undertaken to conduct Donna Isidora in safety to Portalegre, a mere day's ride; but had made away with her, on the road, in some manner unknown, as well as with a horse and mule, the property of her brother. "A singular duenna to have charge of a young Spanish beauty--eh, Carysfort?" he heard a hussar say. "By Jove, Villars, I wish it had been my luck--that's all," was the laughing reply. Quentin wished the same with all his heart. Then came details of the attack made on the guerillas by Ribeaupierre's cavalry brigade. The charge of giving intelligence to the enemy was based on bare assumption, and was unsupported by a tittle of evidence. Next followed the Padre Trevino, costumed for the occasion and effect, a rare example of a wolf in sheep's clothing, who showed his wounded caput, and told, in a whining voice, the sorrowful story of his maltreatment at the aqueduct of Merida, whither he had gone to pray in solitude. The assault was proved beyond a doubt by the evidence of a certain Martin Sedillo, an ill-looking dog with one eye, formerly an alguazil of Salamanca and now a guerilla, who swore distinctly that he saw Quentin beat the padre down with the butt-end of his musket. "You distinctly saw him strike the padre down?" repeated Colonel Grant. "Si, senor presidente y senores oficiales," said the guerilla, bowing low. "Wantonly?" "Most wantonly, senores." "Retire. Call the next witness on the list--private Allan Grange, 25th Foot." To the Borderer, on his entrance, the previous questions were repeated by the court. "Yes, sir--I saw Mr. Kennedy strike down the guerilla (who was not then habited like a friar) with his clubbed musket, but only in time to save his life from _this dagger_, which I took from the hand of his reverence." As he spoke, Allan Grange handed a knife of very ugly aspect to the president, who saw the name _Trevino_ burned, by a hot iron, on the haft.