After a brief conference with the prominent prisoners, Stark vanished and, until the important person named Reuben Blazey arrived at Prince Town, he secluded himself with certain papers and prison orders, that he might prepare his speech.
Then, towards evening, a trumpet announced the arrival of the Agent; the captives drew up in a dense double line, and Mr. Blazey, with his staff and a guard of red-coats, appeared. He was a short, stout man, clad in plum-colour, with a face of generous purple that matched his clothes. His little black eyes shot sharp glances everywhere as he advanced, hat in hand; his clean-shaven mouth was of a coarse pattern, yet it lacked not kindliness.
"Great God!" he said to a clerk at his elbow, "this is the Valley of Bones; and they have come to life. But, indeed, I had not dreamed there were so many."
"There are some five or six hundred of 'em, I believe," answered Lieutenant Mainwaring, who escorted the visitor. Then he addressed the prisoners.
"Now who is to speak for the rest with Mr. Blazey?"
Stark instantly stepped forward and saluted.
"You!" exclaimed the soldier.
"Yes, my comrades honour me with this grave commission."
"Then be brief, young man," said Blazey, "for I don't want to ride over Dartmoor in the dark."
"'Be brief!'" echoed Stark, with fire flashing to his eye. "'Be brief!' Why, you——"