“That is not all.”
“Go on then.”
“The door of the chantry opened before all the torches were lighted, and the prisoner came out.”
“He lies!” exclaimed Bame.
“Let the prisoner remain quiet,” said the judge. “The witness must not be intimidated.”
Bame had arisen with his own exclamation and looked as though he intended jumping from the dock. The ready testimony and coolness of the perjuring witness had startled him; and he recognized his own peril. The boy looked upward at the judge, and then his eyes followed a narrow strip of sunlight to the windows through which it came. There was a streak of blue sky visible, and from it the boy let his eyes fall upon the manacles around his wrists. The distressed look that came into his pinched face was followed by a determined expression; and then, although he knew there was nothing to fear from Bame at that moment, he cunningly said:
“You will not let him harm me if I tell the truth? In the church he made me swear to tell no one. He came out alone with his sword in his hand. It was red with blood.”
“Stop!” exclaimed the excited prisoner, rising from his chair. “The boy is giving perjured—”
“Sit down,” thundered the judge. Eliot remonstrated with the prisoner, and the prosecutor asked: “Could you see it?”
“Yes, your Honor, for I was on the floor close before the chantry, and he paused there to wipe his sword on a black cloak which he had dragged out with him. The other man did not come out with him and the chantry was too dark for me to see within it. One of the ruffians recognized the prisoner, and they entered the sacristry together. I saw them both come out with vestments in their arms.”