Standish, who had not previously noticed her, jerked round his head at the sound of her voice.
"Myra, for God's sake intercede for me," he screamed, and began to struggle violently as his guards seized him and began to drag him towards the pillory. "Beg him to spare me!"
"Oh, Tony, don't fail me!" cried Myra, shamed by his display of terror.
"Don't be a coward! Be brave! Be British!"
Struggling, shouting, protesting and appealing frantically, his face livid and the sweat of fear pouring down it, Standish was dragged towards the stake.
"The burning irons first, I think," snarled Cojuelo. "The burns will make the lash more effective afterwards."
The man beside the furnace drew from the fire a branding iron, the end of which was red-hot, and made a threatening movement. Standish squealed like a rabbit caught in a trap.
"Don't! Don't!" he shrieked in a frenzy of terror. "Oh, spare me, spare me! I'll give her up. I—I can't face it. You can have her!"
"Do you still accuse Don Carlos of having lied?" demanded Cojuelo remorselessly. "Is it not true that you were willing to escape with him, or by his aid, and leave the señorita?"
"Yes, yes, it is true," gasped Standish. "I lied to Myra to try to—to save my face. Don Carlos said he would look after her. Let me go! Let me go!"
"You hear, señorita?" exclaimed Don Carlos, his voice ringing out triumphantly. "To save his own skin, your lover has renounced you…. Release the brave Englishman, my friends. The farce is over."