“I’m going to the general, to this Clavering man. He has a prisoner now whom I want to help if I can—the young man I told you about, who saved me from being piked in the street to-day. I would to God he could have saved you, too.”
“That’s past praying for now,” said Lord O’Neill, “but you’re right, Eustace, you’re right. Save him from the hangman if you can. There’s been blood enough shed to-day—Irish blood, Irish blood. There should be no more of it.”
Lord Dunseveric entered the room where General Clavering and his officers sat at dinner. Captain Twinely stood at the end of the table, and Lord Dunseveric heard the orders he received.
“Put him into the market-house to-night. I’ll hang that fellow in the morning, whatever I do with the rest.”
“The market-house is full, sir,” said Captain Twinely, “the officer in command says he can receive no more prisoners.”
“Damn it, man, shut him up somewhere else, then, but don’t stand there talking to me and interrupting my dinner. Here, landlord, have you an empty cellar?”
“Your worship, my lord general, there’s only the wine cellar; but it’s very nigh on empty now.”
A shout of laughter greeted the remark.
“Fetch out the rest of the wine that’s in it,” said the general, “we’ll make a clean sweep of it. Or, stay, leave the poor devil one bottle of decent claret. He’s to be hanged tomorrow morning. He may have a sup of comfort to-night.”
Captain Twinely saluted and withdrew.