"I know not," stammered the man.
"Think again," continued my companion, "or we must needs refresh your failing memory."
"I know not," repeated the sergeant.
"Two rebels even now dance at the end of a rope outside the Shire Hall," remarked Firestone in a dry, casual sort of voice. "They murdered their prisoners and burnt the houses of loyal Cornishmen; methinks I know of a third who ill-treated men having the misfortune to fall into his hands."
"I did but carry out mine orders," replied the dragoon.
"Brutality is not necessary to the obedience of orders," snapped Firestone. "Come, now, say where our arms were placed, or the provost will have speech with you, with the great possibility of the gallows to finish up with. Now, sirrah, what say you?"
"They were sold at Liskeard."
"To whom?"
"To the host of the 'Stag.'"
"For how much?"