"They are like to be affairs of great weight." The young man's voice had a note of sarcasm.
"Whatever they be, they can assuredly be no concern of an officer o' the King."
"That is for me to decide, sir," the soldier retorted with evidently rising anger. "He has done that which gives me good cause to put him in irons, should I choose to be vengeful."
"What mean ye?" the old man demanded with flashing eyes.
"I mean," replied the other, slowly, "he shall be taught that he cannot play boyish pranks upon His Majesty's officers with impunity."
"It would seem you are better aware o' what you are prating of than am I," said Joseph Devereux, now laying a reassuring hand over the small one that had stolen tremblingly into his own. "As for my son playing 'boyish pranks,' as you say, he would scarcely be likely to turn back to such things in his twenty-eighth year."
"Do you mean me to understand that your son is so old as that?" was the officer's surprised inquiry.
"I care little of what your understanding may be," was the indifferent reply; "but such is the fact."
"And have you no other son—a young boy?"
"I have not, as any one can tell you."