My first impulse was to steal back up the stair to try a drop from one of the windows. But when I would have translated the impulse into action, another man, a small rattish man in gray clothes and with a great bunch of seals dangling at his watch-fob, thrust himself forward out of the mob of onlookers and I heard his whispered word to Castner.
“On the stair landing, Lieutenant. Look for yourself, and let the Irishman spare his lying evasions!”
Castner looked as directed, bowing gravely when he saw me.
“Come down, Captain Page, and surrender your sword,” he commanded, soberly stern; and the brabble of voices ceased and a sudden hush fell on the room. Also, I noticed when Castner spoke and all eyes were turned to my landing, Champe drew back behind the more forward ones in the crowd and I saw him no more.
Now that the suspense was ended and open war was declared, I felt better and could even lean over the stair-rail and laugh down upon these king’s bush-beaters.
“You want my sword, Lieutenant?” I retorted. “I’ll give it to you, or to any man whose need is greater than my own—always provided that you or he will take it point foremost.”
“I make the demand in the king’s name,” said Castner, refusing to be either joked or jarred out of his even-toned soberness. And then he added, out of the heart of friendliness, I do think: “I wouldn’t make it harder for you than I must, Captain Page. You should see that resistance is madness.”
“I see that you may order your men to train their muskets on me and bring me down bird-wise, Mr. Castner. I do assure you it will be far more merciful than those other designs you have on me.”
He took me at my word with a soldierly disregard for further parleyings. In a trice he had cleared the space to the stair-foot, and had given the order to five of his musketeers. When their pieces were leveled he gave me one more chance.
“Once more, and for the last time, will you come down and render yourself, Captain Page?”