'How can you say that?' cried I. 'You have no right to kill him.'
And with that I began trembling so violently as to shake the chair in which I was sitting.
He perceived it, and drew nearer.
'Sir Hubert is in my power,' he said, in low, meaning tones. 'He is in fact a prisoner in this house, even now lying in our dungeon. For, let me tell you, we have a dungeon down amongst the cellars. Aye, and a gallows, too, in the inner yard. If I hold up my hand, so——' he made a gesture, 'my men will bear him to the gallows, where he will die.'
I interrupted him with a cry of terror-stricken anguish.
'You can save him,' he said quickly. 'You have it in your power to save him. Dear Margaret,' and again he endeavoured to take my hand, whilst a fawning, obsequious tone succeeded the fiercer one, 'you, and no one else, can prevent his terrible fate.'
'How? How can I prevent it?' and I looked up appealingly into the hardest and most cruel face it has ever been my lot to encounter.
Sir Claudius took my hand, my most unwilling hand, in his, pressing it tenderly.
'My dear, I love you,' he said. 'Nay, don't wince, for in that fact lies the man's salvation. If you will try ever so little to return my love, if you will promise to marry me, Sir Hubert shall live. Nay, more, upon the day on which we are married he shall be liberated.'
'Oh, but I cannot! I cannot marry you!' I sobbed distractedly. 'I cannot!'