"Hark! No; that was not the half-hour. Concerning Boyd, one word." And Lord Geoffry spoke a sentence that made Chisholm open his wild eyes still wider and exclaim, "Impossible! But, for the love of Heaven, why?"
"Because I so chose—I scarce know why myself," answered Sir Geoffry. "And I still choose; it must not be otherwise yet. But come; be it as you say! We will get away from this den of peril. God help Boyd and his household, when Jermain awakes and Danforth rides up to join him; for it will be found that two birds instead of one have flown."
"Aha!" returned the other, with a diabolic glitter flashing in his eyes that at once revealed the savage nature below, "but why must they wake, my liege? Are not these in our hand? One knife does their business before we quit this roof—saves Boyd—eh?"
Lord Armitage recoiled at the bloody suggestion.
"Mort de Dieu! Would you slay the sleeping?" he cried. "Never—never. It were as foul murder as a Virginian savage could bring himself to do. Speak of it again, and I will cry out and we both shall perish! You chill the blood in my veins."
Chisholm looked at him curiously. But he recognized the determination in Lord Geoffry's attitude and accent and yielded, murmuring, "So be it. But because it is thy will. They would serve us thus, be sure."
"Chisholm, what will become of Boyd and his people when we are sought for? Oh, the thought is intolerable to me. Go you alone. I cannot leave them."
"If we stayed, it were no aid to Boyd," responded Chisholm, rising after him and taking his shoes in his hand; "and think of what your death"—the rest of the sentence he finished in Lord Armitage's ear, plucking the young nobleman imperatively onward. The outlaw locked the low door behind them with a cool and cautious hand and put the key into his own pocket, with a scornful smile.
Cautious of the candle's flickering light in the sleepers' eyelids, they emerged into the East Room. Boyd came in view as Sir Geoffry permitted his companion to pass through into the hall, where a lantern swung. The startled Master clasped his strong hands in consternation at beholding, not only the expected knight, but with him the prisoner, released from his fetters and walking upright, with so altered a mien. Evidently some new move had been found necessary. Boyd's cheek paled as he realized what would occur if Roxley should spring from his bed and cry out. He beckoned the fugitives away.
In a few low-uttered sentences Armitage described his successful attempt; and in the same breath disclosed the necessity for his instant flight from the Manor, along with the mysterious messenger. But more than that he had a private knowledge of Chisholm, and was positive that he could rely upon his efficient help, the fugitive seemed not to think it proper to disclose. However, Boyd had heard often enough of that singular brotherhood of loyalty and marauding, whose names and exploits have since become part of the history of the troubled time, and whose cruelty and courage in skirmish and raid terrified even the Tory troopers in relating—the Seven Men of Glen Moriston! Who, in turning over the pages of the chronicle of the "Forty-five," has not paused to admire the daring with which a handful of desperate spirits maintained themselves in a mountain fastness, defied pursuit, and, at last, their country restored to peace, died in their beds?[*]