"Stop, Gaston!" she cried. "Every word you say would be an insult did it come from another. But I have too high a reverence for you as a priest, the remembrance of your unfailing charity is too strong, to answer except by an explanation. Never mind appearances! I am here in this disguise because it afforded the only possible escape from the town, and my object is to carry word to M. de Levis that everything within the walls is in the most complete disorder, the garrison is mad with drink, and he has but to march on the town at once to effect its capture." "Are you dreaming?--the town helpless?" "Yes, it is his, if he can but advance without delay." "Then, forgive me! I was wrong--a hundred times wrong!" "Just one moment. My meeting with M. de Maxwell is as much by chance as your meeting with me," she added, with a decision which I thought perhaps unnecessary. "Forgive me, Marguerite," he repeated, in his usual tone; "and you too, Chevalier. I wronged you both. Now to make amends. Will you lead us to the General?" he said, turning to me. "Come," I said, and we each held out a hand to Margaret. "Stand!" thundered a voice in English at two paces from us. "You are all covered!" CHAPTER XXVII I FIND A KEY TO MY DILEMMA "We are your prisoners!" I answered, instantly, for the slightest hesitation on such occasions may lead to the most serious results. Explanations can be made subsequently, but a bullet from an over-zealous musket can never be recalled. In an instant they were beside us, a sergeant and six men, all Highlanders. I was about to speak again, but before I could do so Margaret stepped up to the sergeant, and taking him by the sleeve whispered a few words in his ear. He thereupon gave some instructions in Gaelic to his men, who closed round me and the priest, and, moving off a few paces with her, they spake earnestly together for a little. What she said I do not know, but in a moment he faced about, and picking up the lanthorn, examined me in turn. "Your name and rank, sir?" he said to me. "Hugh Maxwell, captain." "God bless me, sir! But this is not the first time I have heard your name, nor seen you, if you'll excuse my saying it," he said, most earnestly. "Like enough. What is your name?" "Neil Murray, sir." "And a very good name it is; but I cannot say I recall it." "But you will remember the march to Derby, sir, and Lord George?" he asked, eagerly. "I am never likely to forget it. Were you there?" "Where else would I be when my grandfather was own cousin to his?" "Then I suppose there's no treason now in shaking hands over so old a story, Neil?" I said, extending my hand, which he grasped heartily, and relations were established between us. He then turned to the priest. "Your name, your reverence?" "Le pere Jean, missionary." "Well, gentlemen, it cannot be helped. You must both follow us into the town."