"Allan Grange, were you ever tried by a court-martial?" asked the judge advocate, looking among his memoranda for one furnished by Colonel Crawford. "Yes, sir," faltered the soldier, growing red and pale by turns. "And were reduced to the ranks, at Colchester?" "Yes, sir," he replied, sadly. "And you were sentenced to be flogged--three hundred lashes, I think, by the Defaulter's Book?" "A sentence kindly remitted by Major Middleton," said Grange, proudly. "There, this will do--you may go," said Colonel Grant; and then some of the members smiled and looked at each other, as much as to say, "we see how much your evidence is worth." Quentin knew that Donna Isidora was in the French camp; but when Warriston mentioned this to be the case, the only witness called to prove it, Lieutenant Monkton, was unable to repeat what Ribeaupierre said, as he had been beyond hearing at that particular moment. On the fifth charge, concerning the gold moidores, Quentin thought himself bewitched when the one-eyed guerilla, Martin Sedillo, deliberately swore, with the drawn swords of two officers crossed under his bearded chin, "that he was plundered of them at Herreruela by the prisoner, whom he was ready to warrant as false as Galalou!" "Who was he?" inquired Askerne, looking at his watch impatiently for the third time. "Galalou betrayed the French army at Roncesvalles," said Colonel Grant; "as we say in Scotland, false as Menteith. It is a local phrase." His refusal to bear another despatch to De Saldos was easily proved, and that circumstance seemed to corroborate much that had preceded it. Matters were now looking gloomy indeed. Quentin became sick at heart; he drained his water-jug, yet his lips grew parched and dry; he felt the toils closing around him, and already, in fancy, he heard the president passing the terrible sentence of death! The bitter conviction came home to his soul, that hate and wiles, against which it was in vain for innocence to contend, were triumphing over him; and that even if pardoned, the memory that he had been arraigned, and on such cruel charges, would live! Shame for unmerited reproach and unavailing sorrow for a lost youth--a blighted, it might be, a long life taken away, and perhaps by a shameful death--were some of the deep, the bitter, and stinging emotions felt on this day by poor Quentin Kennedy. While that court-martial lasted he lived a lifetime in every hour of it!