"For your just resentment in sweet Margery's behalf. Believe it or not, as you like, but I could love you for that blow you gave me, John Ireton. I had been losing cursedly at cards that day, and mine host's wine had a dash of usquebaugh in it, I dare swear. At any rate, I knew not what it was I said till Tybee said it over for me." "But the next morning you took a cur's advantage of me on this very spot and ran me through," I countered. "Name it what you will and let it go at that. There was murder in your eye, and you are the better swordsman. You put me upon it for my life, and when you gave me leave, I did not kill you, as I might." "No; you reserved me for this." He took a step nearer and seemed strangely agitated. "You forced my hand, John Ireton," he said, speaking low that the others might not hear. "You had her ear from day to day and used your privilege against me. As an enemy who merely sought my life for vengeance's sake I could spare you; but as a rival--" I laughed, and sanity began to come again. "Make an end of it," I said. "I'd rather hear the muskets speak than you." For reply he took a folded paper from his pocket and spread and held it so that I might read. It was a letter from my Lord Cornwallis, directing Captain Falconnet to send his prisoner, Captain John Ireton, sometime lieutenant in the Royal Scots Blues, under guard to his Lordship's headquarters in South Carolina. "Can you read it?" he asked. I nodded. "Well, this supersedes the colonel's sentence. If I say the word to Ensign Farquharson you will be remanded." "To be shot or hanged a little later, I suppose?" "No. Have you any notion why my Lord Charles is sending for you?" "No," said I, in my turn; and, indeed, I had not. "He knows your record as an officer, and would give you a chance to 'list in your old service." "I would not take it--at your hands or his." "You'd best take it. But in any event, you'll have your life and honorable safe-conduct beyond the lines." "Make an end," I said again. "I understand you will obey his Lordship's order, or disregard it, as your own interest directs. What would you have me do?" "A very little thing to weigh against a life. Mr. Gilbert Stair is my very good friend." I let that go uncontradicted. "His title to the estate is secure enough, as you know, but you can make it better," he went on. This saying of his told me what I had only guessed: that as yet he had not been admitted into Gilbert Stair's full confidence; also, that he had no hint of what had taken place in my chamber some hour or two past midnight. At that, a joy fierce like pain came to thrill me. "Go on," said I. "Your route to Camden lies through Charlotte. Your guard will give you time and opportunity to execute a quitclaim in Mr. Stair's favor." "Is that all?" I asked.