The murderer made an uncertain sound with his dry lips, and his bloodshot eyes roamed around the circle from one staring face to another, until they returned to rest upon the watchful, amber-hued countenance beside him. "Speak!" said his master sternly. "I ’ll say nothing," was the dogged reply, "until I stands my trial. I demands a fair trial." "Remember that this is your last chance to speak to me, to speak to any one in authority before you are tried. Of course you will hang for this. Have you anything to say? Do you wish to speak to me in private?" The murderer raised his head, and shaking the tangled hair from about his face, cast at Landless, standing ten paces beyond the planter, such a look of deadly and blasting hatred, that for a moment the blood ran cold in the young man’s veins. He set his teeth and braced himself to meet the blow at plans and hopes and life that should follow such a look. To his astonishment the blow did not fall. Roach changed the basilisk gaze with which he had regarded him to a vacant stare. "I ’ve naught to say," he whined, "except that I hopes your honor will see that I has a fair trial—no d—d Tyburn or Newgate hocus-pocussing." The master beckoned to the overseer. "Take him away," he said. "Take two or three men and carry him on to the gaol." He turned on his heel and walked to where Sir Charles Carew leaned against a tree, idly flicking the mud from his boots with his riding cane. Landless standing near and listening with strained ears heard the master say in answer to the other’s lifted brows:— "Nothing to be learnt in that quarter. If there ’s rebellion brewing, he knows nothing of it." Fresh horses were brought from the stables. "You, Luiz Sebastian, Taylor, and Mathew," said the overseer, swinging himself into the saddle. The men designated mounted, and Roach, bound and scowling, was hoisted to his former seat behind Luiz Sebastian. The cavalcade started. As the horse that bore the double load passed Landless, the murderer twisted himself about in his seat, and, with a venomous look, spat at him. Luiz Sebastian smiled evilly. The shaven head and fleshless face of Win-Grace Porringer protruded themselves over Landless’s shoulder. "What does it mean?" he muttered. "God knows," answered the other. "Come to the trysting place to-night. We must act, and act quickly."