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.
"Thank you, Mr. Boyd. I see you have prudence in emergencies as well as adroitness. I am satisfied with your admissions for this moment. The details I shall take opportunity of hearing in the guard-house at Neith. Ah, Barkalow, you have finished your search through the house? Did you get into that secret chamber with Captain Jermain's man? Very good. Holloa, there! Into the saddle, everybody! Captain Jermain, please order your men to mount! Croft, see that Boyd and his son have horses—it will save time. Release the servants! By Jove! we have made quick work this morning. Back to Neith, instantly!"
In five minutes Andrew and Gilbert found themselves the centre of a cordon moving slowly over the Manor lawn. Protest from the servants was useless; the weeping of the faithful women was rudely silenced. In front rode Colonel Danforth and his younger colleague, who was still tracing out, angrily, the night's work, with Roxley and Dawkin, and an occasional comment from gruff Lieutenant Barkalow. But just as they gained a slight eminence, close beside the rude gate-way of the Manor that opened into the Neith Road, the Colonel reined his horse and said to the Master:
"Boyd, what shall be done to you for this traitorous business I know not; nor shall I know until I draw out of you at Neith an accounting, down to the least detail. And I will draw it—expect that! But, for your insolence and stubbornness thus far, I can show you your reward, already."