"Halt! Ground arms!"
Lights blinded our dazzled eyes; bayonets glittered like slender flames.
An officer stepped to the lanthorn; a soldier raised it; then the officer unrolled a parchment and began to read very rapidly. I could not distinguish a word of it for the cries of the Spaniards, but I saw the jailer unlocking our cage, and presently two soldiers stepped in and drove out a Spaniard at the point of their bayonets.
Shrieking, sobbing, supplicating, the Spaniards were thrust out into the corridor; the Englishman went last, with a contemptuous nod at Mount and me, and a cool gesture to the soldiers to stand aside.
Mount followed; but, as he stepped from the cage, a soldier pushed him back, shaking his head.
"Not yet?" asked Mount, quietly.
"Not yet," said the soldier, locking the cage and flinging the iron key to the jailer.
Into the prison passed the tumult; the solid walls dulled it at last; then came the far echo of a gate closing, and all was silent.
I turned to the draped windows. Dawn whitened the sail-cloth that hung over them. A moment later I heard drums in the distance beating the "Rogues' March."