"So 'twas by your orders? The boy lied then!" says I choking with my anger. "'Twas you gave him the key! 'Twas you bade him bring me hither—"
"Where none shall dare seek you!" says she, all unmoved by my bitter rage, "So do I give you life, Martin Conisby, praying God you may find your manhood one day—"
"Life!" quoth I, getting to my feet, "My life at your hands? Now look ye, madam, rather will I hang unjustly, rather will I endure again the shame of the lash—aye by God's light, rather will I rot in chains or perish of plague than take my life at your hands. So now, madam, I'll out of this perfumed nest and hang if I must!" saying which I turned to the door, but she checked me with a gesture.
"Stay!" she commanded, "Would you shame me?" And now though she fronted me with proud head erect, I saw her cheek flush painfully.
"Aye, verily!" quoth I, "A lady's honour is delicate ware and not to be cheapened by such poor rogue as I! Fear nothing, lady, I will go as—" I stopped all at once, as came footsteps without and a light tapping on the door.
"Who is it?" she called, lightly enough, and shot the bolt with nimble fingers.
"Only I, sweet coz," answered a gay voice, "And I come but to warn you not to venture on deck to-morrow till justice hath been done upon our prisoner."
"Shall you—hang him, Rupert?"
"Assuredly! 'Tis a black rogue and merits a worse fate."
"Is he then tried and condemned already, Rupert?"