But before we emerged from the valley the troopers halted, save a sergeant, who disappeared by a narrow path on the left-hand side of the lane. In a few minutes he returned, accompanied by two of the rebel officers, and with an involuntary exclamation of surprise and dismay I recognised one of them to be the traitor, Captain Chaloner.
Close behind him, his face distorted with a malevolent grin, was another acquaintance, Master Henry Cutler, the Southampton "merchant," whom, but a few hours previously, we had seen swimming across the Tamar.
"You have them securely, I hope, sergeant?" said Chaloner, rubbing his gloved hands in evident enjoyment.
"Safely bound, eh?"
"Yes, sir."
"'Tis well. Now, sirrahs, what have you to say for yourselves? Malignants and robbers to boot, ye are arrested in the name of the Parliament of England and charged with robbing with violence this man, Henry Cutler. What have ye to say?"
"My purse! My purse!" exclaimed the huckster, producing his leather bag from the colonel's pocket. "See, sir, this proves my story. My papers are still in it."
"They are guilty beyond doubt," replied Chaloner, "e'en though they speak not a word. Hi! Bring hither the halters!" he shouted to a trooper.
Without delay a noose was placed round each of our necks, while another trooper climbed to the lowermost branch of a pine tree that overgrew the road.
After one or two attempts he caught the ends of the ropes, passed them over the bough, and let the free end fall to the ground. Five or six men grasped each rope and awaited the signal to haul us, kicking and struggling in our death agonies, from the backs of our horses.