“Your worship, my lord general, there’s only the wine cellar; but it’s very nigh on empty now.” A shout of laughter greeted the remark. “Fetch out the rest of the wine that’s in it,” said the general, “we’ll make a clean sweep of it. Or, stay, leave the poor devil one bottle of decent claret. He’s to be hanged tomorrow morning. He may have a sup of comfort to-night.” Captain Twinely saluted and withdrew. “General Clavering,” said Lord Dunseveric, “I ask you to spare this young man’s life. I will make myself personally responsible for his safe keeping, and undertake to send him out of the country at the first opportunity.” “It can’t be done, Lord Dunseveric. I am sorry to disoblige in a small matter, but it can’t be done.” “I ask it as a matter of justice,” said Lord Dunseveric. “The man saved my life and my son’s life to-day in the street at the risk of his own. He deserves to be spared.” “I’ve given my answer.” Lord Dunseveric hesitated. For a moment it seemed as if he were about to turn and leave the room. Then, with an evident effort, he spoke again. “I ask this man’s life as a personal favour. I am not one who begs often from the Government, or who asks favours easily, but I ask this.” “Anything else, my lord, anything in reason, but this I will not grant. This young man has a bad record--a damned bad record. He was mixed up with the hanging of a yeoman in the north------” “He was not,” said Lord Dunseveric. “I hanged that man.” “You hanged him,” said General Clavering, Angrily, “and yet you come here asking favours of me. But there’s more, plenty more, against this Neal Ward. He tried to choke a dragoon in the street of Belfast, he took part in a daring capture of some ammunition for the rebels’ use, he helped to murder a loyal man at Donegore last night, he was in arms to-day. There’s not half a dozen deserve hanging more richly than he does, and hanged he’ll be. Never you fret yourself about him, Lord Dunseveric; sit down here and drink a glass with us. We’re going to make a night of it.” “I beg leave to decline your invitation,” said Lord Dunseveric, stiffly. “I have asked for mercy and been refused. I have asked for justice and been refused. I have begged a personal favour and been refused. I bid you good night. If I thought you and your companions were capable of any feeling of common decency I should request you to restrain your mirth a little out of respect to Lord O’Neill, who lies dying within two doors of you. But I should probably only provide you with fresh food for your laughter if I did.”