Cristal nodded.
‘Now, then, for the final trial,’ said Redgauntlet. He folded his hands—looked upwards—crossed himself—and after this act of devotion (almost the first which any one had observed him make use of) he commanded Nixon to keep good watch—have his horses and men ready for every emergence—look after the safe custody of the prisoners—but treat them at the same time well and civilly. And, these orders given, he darted hastily into the house.
CHAPTER XXII
NARRATIVE CONTINUED
Redgauntlet’s first course was to the chamber of his nephew. He unlocked the door, entered the apartment, and asked what he wanted, that he made so much noise.
‘I want my liberty,’ said Darsie, who had wrought himself up to a pitch of passion in which his uncle’s wrath had lost its terrors. ‘I desire my liberty, and to be assured of the safety of my beloved friend, Alan Fairford, whose voice I heard but now.’
‘Your liberty shall be your own within half an hour from this period—your friend shall be also set at freedom in due time—and you yourself be permitted to have access to his place of confinement.’
‘This does not satisfy me,’ said Darsie; ‘I must see my friend instantly; he is here, and he is here endangered on my account only—I have heard violent exclamations—the clash of swords. You will gain no point with me unless I have ocular demonstration of his safety.’
‘Arthur—dearest nephew,’ answered Redgauntlet, ‘drive me not mad! Thine own fate—that of thy house—that of thousands—that of Britain herself, are at this moment in the scales; and you are only occupied about the safety of a poor insignificant pettifogger!’