"I regret, Sir Walter Bradley, that I am compelled to ask you for your sword, and to tell thee that I now arrest thee."
"Upon what charge?"
"High treason, Sir Walter."
Harleston arose and grasped my hand in a grip that could not be mistaken.
"Tell not my dear Hazel of this; that is, not at present."
"Keep up thy courage," he replied; "thou shalt not die by the hand of an executioner. I, thy friend, Harleston, have said it, and I never yet have told a lie."
I thanked him for his kind words with the pressure of my hand, and with a firm step marched from the room.
In the hall I met Michael on his way to my quarters. When he saw me he made a movement as though he thought to attack the soldiers which surrounded me.
"Farewell, Michael," I said, as a great lump arose in my throat, and I gripped his mighty hand. "Go to Sir Frederick, in my room, and in future serve him as faithfully as in the past thou hast served me."
He dropped to one knee and, though I tried to prevent him, he kissed my hand as though I were a King. Then he arose and walked slowly toward the door where Harleston stood.