No reply. Other interests than his own were blended in a response to this. Unforced, Gilbert would not yield an inch here. "How long since, I say, Mr. Boyd? So reluctant? Very good. Bring that lad here!" Gilbert could not suppress a tremor and a stifled protest as he heard this sudden order and saw Andrew pushed forward. But a hand struck the Master of Windlestrae sharply across his mouth, he was seized on either side, made to stand turned about, with his back to his son and this English inquisitor, and so held fast. "You heard what I last asked your father, boy? Now I'll try you--and mind you speak the truth. Has this Armitage been in Windlestrae Manor within one week?" White and defiant, Andrew looked Danforth in the face; and, remembering Gilbert's behavior, was also mute. He glanced, too, at a sapphire ring upon his finger. Cunning Danforth! He well guessed how speediest to reach his end. He made a sign. Boyd heard a certain confusion, but was held as if in a vice. In a twinkling Andrew's clothes were, not so much pulled, as torn from his back. Three burly dragoons forced the lad into a partially stooping position. A fourth raised a leathern whip with four or five lashes. "Speak, insolent young dog!" cried Danforth; "answer my question!" "I will not!" retorted Andrew, suddenly struggling. "Give it to him, Foote!" shouted the Colonel. A whish in the air--the blows of the thongs, and a boyish shriek! "Again!" spoke Danforth; and again the hideous instrument descended, cutting into the bared white flesh and wringing confession of the agony it inflicted--no other confession. But before the whip could again do its fearful office Boyd wrenched himself loose. He ran to his son's side with a cry of passion and horror and sacrifice. He threw his arms about Andrew, fettered as he was, fairly dashing the monsters off by his impetuous interposition. "Stop, stop, for the love of God!" he exclaimed. "Colonel Danforth--Captain Jermain--spare the innocent! On me, on me, do what you will! I _have_ sheltered Lord Geoffry Armitage. He was the sentry who fled with the prisoner this morning. They are safe! Do your worst, but only to me; I am responsible for everything--everything! God send all such hunted men deliverance; and God send confusion on you and your king!" A shout from the dragoons, a confused clamor from the helpless servants, and half a dozen quick sentences from the two officers followed. Under such a revelation, Captain Jermain was with difficulty kept from a second personal assault on his late host. Without blenching, Gilbert stood firm until all the ebullition should subside. "Courage, my brave lad!" he said to Andrew; "we could only bring worse trouble on others by longer silence. We are in the hands of the Lord of Hosts--if the worst be death, He shall sustain us in that, too!" Danforth turned upon Boyd, with a smile which was more ominous than a whole torrent of threats.