“We shall see,” she said, sharply. She turned away from the two men and moved to a small table against the wall that carried writing materials. Seating herself thereat, she took up a goose-quill and began to write rapidly on a large sheet of paper. When she had finished she looked round, and beckoned Rufus to her side that he might hear what she had written. She read it aloud, with her eyes fixed on Evander’s impassive face.
“To Colonel Cromwell, serving with my Lord Essex in the Parliamentary army lately at Edgehill. My cousin, Sir Randolph Harby, is a prisoner in your hands. Your friend, Mr. Evander Cloud, is a prisoner in mine. I will exchange my prisoner for your prisoner; but the life of Mr. Evander Cloud is answerable for the life of Randolph Harby. Such is the sure promise and steadfast vow of his cousin and the King’s true subject, Brilliana Harby.”
As she read, the dour face of Rufus brightened, and he rubbed his hands in satisfaction at the close.
“By the Lord, an honest thought,” he chuckled. “Swing Randolph, swing rat-face.”
Evander smiled disdainfully.
“I am no spy,” he asserted, firmly, “and by the laws of war you have no right to my life.”
Brilliana turned on him tauntingly.
“You were taken a rebel in arms and your life is at my mercy.”
“Then,” said Evander, calmly, “add to your letter my wish that Colonel Cromwell take no thought of me.”