The men were about an hour making their search, and during this interval Lady Jevery had been summoned, and Anthony had received the stimulating drug on which he relied. But he was very ill; and Lady Jevery, who adored her nephew, was weeping and full of anxious terror. Matilda vainly assured her Stephen was safe. She insisted on doubting this statement. "You thought he went north at four o’clock, but I feel sure he only went as far as Blythe. No one but Stephen would have dared to commit such a crime as was committed at nine o’clock. But ’tis most like him and Frederick Blythe; and they will be caught, I feel sure they will." "They will not be caught, aunt. And if it were Stephen and Blythe, they did right. Who would not steal a warrant for his own beheading, if he could? I sent a message to Blythe and Mason at dawn this morning, and they are far away by this time." At this point the sheriff reentered the room. He was in a vile temper, and did not scruple to exercise it. "The man has gone," he said to Anthony Lynn; "and I believe you know all about the affair." "About what affair? The mail robbery?" "Just that. What are you doing with profane and wicked malignants in your house? I would like to know that, Anthony Lynn." "To the bottomless pit with your liking," answered Anthony shaking from head to feet with passion. "What have you to do with me and my friends? This is my house, not yours." "You are none of Cromwell’s friend. Many people beside me say that of you." "I am glad they do me so much honour. Cromwell! Who is Cromwell? A man to joy the devil. No, I am not his friend!" and with a radiant smile—"I thank my Maker for it." He spoke with increasing difficulty, scarcely above a whisper, though he had risen to his feet, and believed himself to have the strong, resounding voice of his healthy manhood. The sheriff turned to his attendants— "You hear the traitor!" he cried. "You heard Anthony Lynn turn his back on himself! I knew him always for a black heart and a double tongue. We must have a warrant for him, and that at once." "Fool!" said the trembling, tottering old man, with a superhuman scorn, as his clay-like face suddenly flamed into its last colour. "Warrant! warrant! Oliver Cromwell has no warrant to fit my name. I go now on the warrant of the King of kings. Put me in the deepest dungeon, His _habeas corpus_ sets me free of you. Matilda! Stephen! I am going to my dear lord—to my dear King—to my dear God!" and as a strong man shakes off a useless garment, so Anthony Lynn dropped his body, and in that moment his spirit flew away further than thought could follow it. "What a villain!" cried the sheriff. "Villain, in your face," answered Matilda passionately. "Out of the presence of holy death! You are not fit to stand by his dead body! Go, on this instant! Sure, if you do not, there are those who will make you!"