"Well, gentlemen," said O'Hanlon, "you hear the prisoner's defence. What think you?"
"We have decided already, and he has now produced nothing new in his favour. I see no reason why we should alter our decision," replied the priest.
"You would, then, put him to death?" inquired he.
"Assuredly," replied the priest, calmly.
"But this shall not be, gentlemen; he shall not die. You shall slay me first," replied O'Hanlon. "I know this youth; and every word he has spoken I believe. He is the son of one who risked his life a hundred times, and lost all for the sake of the king and his country—one who, throughout the desperate and fruitless struggles of Irish loyalty, was in the field my constant comrade, and a braver and a better one none ever need desire. The son of such a man shall not perish by our hands; and for the risk of his talking elsewhere of this night's adventure, I will be his surety, with my life, that he mentions it to no one, and nowhere."
A silence of some seconds followed this unexpected declaration.
"Be it so, then," said the priest; "for my part, I offer no resistance."
"So say I," added the person who sat with the papers by him at the extremity of the board. "On you, however, Captain O'Hanlon, rest the whole responsibility of this act."
"On me alone. Were there the possibility of treason in that youth, I would myself perish ere I should move a hand to save him," replied O'Hanlon. "I gladly take upon myself the whole accountability, and all the consequences of the act."
"Your life and liberty are yours, sir," said the priest, addressing O'Connor; "see that you abuse neither to our prejudice. Unbind and let the prisoner go."