 CHAPTER XIV. THE CHAMPION. With the possible exception of her ladyship, I do not think that there was much sleep that night at Monsanto for any of the four chief actors in this tragic comedy. Each had his own preoccupations. Sylvia's, we know. Mr. Butler found his leg troubling him again, and the pain of the reopened wound must have prevented him from sleeping, even had his anxieties about his immediate future, not suffice to do so. As for Sir Terence, his was the most deplorable case of all. This man who had lived a life of simple and downright honesty in great things and in small, a man who had never stooped to the slightest prevarication, found himself suddenly launched upon the most horrible and infamous course of duplicity to encompass the rune of another. The offense of that other against himself might be of the most foul and hideous, a piece of treachery that only treachery could adequately avenge, yet this consideration was not enough to appease the clamours of Sir Terence's self-respect. In the end, however, the primary desire for vengeance and vengeance of the bitterest kind proved master of his mind. Captain Tremaine had been led by his villainy into a coil that should presently crush him, and Sir Terence promised himself an infinite balm for his outraged honour in the entertainment which the futile struggles of the victim should provide. With Captain Tremaine lay the cruel choice of submitting in tortured silence to his fate or of turning craven and saving his miserable life by proclaiming himself a seducer and a betrayer. It should be interesting to observe how the captain would decide, and his punishment was certain whatever the decision that he took. Sir Terence came to breakfast in the open, grey-faced and haggard, but miraculously composed for a man who had so little studied the art of concealing his emotions. Voice in glance were calm, as he gave a good morning to his wife, and to misarmitage. What are you going to do about Ned? was one of his wife's first questions. It took him aback. He looked as scant at her, marveling at the steadiness with which she bore his glance, until it occurred to him that he frontery was an essential part of the equipment of all harlots. What am I going to do? he echoed. Why nothing. The matter is out of my hands. I may be asked to give evidence. I may be even be called to sit upon the court-martial that will try him. My evidence can hardly assist him. My conclusions will naturally be based upon the evidence that is laid before the court. Her teaspoon rattled in her saucer. I don't understand you, Terrence. Ned has always been your best friend. He has certainly shared everything that was mine. And you know, she went on, but he did not kill Samovall. Indeed. His glance quickened a little. How should I know that? Well, I know it anyway. He seemed moved by that statement. He leaned forward with an odd eagerness, behind which there was something terrible that went unperceived by her. Why did you not say so before? How do you know? What do you know? I am sure that he did not. Yes, yes. But what makes you so sure? Do you possess some knowledge that you have not revealed? He saw the color slowly shrinking from her cheeks, under his burning gaze, so she was not quite shameless then after all. There were limits to her effrontery. What knowledge should I possess? she filtered. That is what I am asking. She made a good recovery. I possess the knowledge that you should possess yourself, she told him. I know Ned bring me an incapable of such a thing. I am ready to swear that he could not have done it. I see evidence as to character. He sank back into his chair and thoughtfully stirred his chocolate. It may weigh with the court, but I am not the court. In my mere opinions can do nothing for Ned Tremaine. Her ladyship looked at him wildly. The court, she cried. Do you mean that I shall have to give evidence? Naturally, he answered. You will have to say what you saw. But, but I saw nothing. Something, I think. Yes, but nothing that can matter. Still, the court will wish to hear it and perhaps to examine you upon it. Oh, no, no. In her alarm she half rose, then sank again to her chair. You must keep me out of this, Terence. I couldn't. I really couldn't. He laughed with an affection of indulgence, masking something else. Why? He said, You would not deprive Tremaine of any of the advantages to be derived from your testimony. Are you not ready to bear witness as to his character? To swear that from your knowledge of the man, you are sure he could not have done such a thing? That he is the very soul of honor a man incapable of anything base or treacherous or sly? And then at last Sylvia, who had been watching them and seeking to apply to what she heard, the wild expressions that Sir Terence had used to herself last night, broke into the conversation. Why do you apply these words to Captain Tremaine? She asked. He turned sharply to meet the opposition he detected in her. I don't apply them. On the contrary, I say that. As Una knows, they are not applicable. Then you make an unnecessary statement, a statement that has nothing to do with the case. Captain Tremaine has been arrested for killing Count Samavel in a duel. A duel may be a violation of the law, as recently enacted by Lord Wellington. But it is not an offense against honor. And to say that a man cannot have fought a duel, because a man is incapable of anything base or treacherous or sly, is just to say a very foolish and meaningless thing. Oh, quite so, the adjutant admitted. But if Tremaine denies having fought, if he shelters himself behind a falsehood and says that he has not killed Samavel, then I think the statement assumes some meaning. Does Captain Tremaine say that? She asked him sharply. It is what I understood him to say last night when I ordered him under arrest. Then, said Sylvia, with full conviction, Captain Tremaine did not do it. Perhaps he didn't, Sir Terence admitted. The court will no doubt discover the truth. The truth, you know, must prevail. And he looked at his wife again, marking the fresh signs of agitation, she betrayed. Mullen's coming to set fresh covers. The conversation was allowed to lapse. Nor was it ever resumed. For at that moment, with no other announcement, save such as was afforded, by his quick step and click-click of his spurs, a short, slight man entered the quadrangle from the doorway of the official wing. The adjutant, turning to look, caught his breath suddenly in an exclamation of astonishment. Lord Wellington! he cried and was immediately on his feet. At the exclamation the newcomer checked and turned. He wore a plain gray undress frock and white stock, buckskin breeches and lacquered boots. And he carried a riding crop tucked under his left arm. His features were bold and sternly handsome, his fine eyes singularly piercing and keen in their glance. And the sweep of those eyes now took not in merely the adjutant, but the spread table, and the lady seated before it. He halted a moment, then advanced quickly, swept his cocked hat from a brown head, that was but very slightly touched with gray, and bad with a mixture of stiffness and courtliness to the ladies. Since I have intruded so unwittingly, I had best remain to make my apologies, he said. I was on my way to your residential quarters, oh boy, not imagining that I should break in upon your privacy. In this fashion, oh boy with a great deference made haste to reassure him on the score of the intrusion, whilst the ladies themselves rose to greet him. He bore her ladyship's hand to his lips with perfunctory courtesy, then insisted upon her resuming her chair. Then he bowed, ever with that mixture of stiffness and deference to Miss Armitage, upon her being presented to him by the adjutant. Do not suffer me to disturb you, he begged him. Sit down, oh boy, I am not pressed, and I shall be monstrous glad of a few moments rest. You are very pleasant here. And he looked about the luxuriant garden with approving eyes. Sir Terence placed the hospitality of his table at his lordship's disposal, but the latter declined graciously. A glass of wine and water, if you will, no more. I breakfasted at Taurus Vagress with Fletcher. Then to the look of astonishment on the faces of the ladies he smiled. Oh yes, he assured them, I was early a stirrer, for time is very precious just at present, which is why I dropped unannounced upon you from the skies, oh boy. He took the glass that Mullens proffered on a salver, sipped from it and set it down. There is so much vexation, so much hindrance from these pestilential intrigues here in Lisbon, that I thought it as well to come in person, and speak plainly to the gentleman of the Council of Regency. He was peeling off his stout riding-gloves as he spoke. If this campaign is to go forward at all, it will go forward as I dispose. Then, too, I wanted to see Fletcher and the works. By gad, oh boy, he has performed miracles, and I am very pleased with him. Oh, and with you, too. He told me how ably you have seconded him, and counseled him where necessary. You must have worked night and day, oh boy. He sighed. I wish that I were as well served in every direction. And then he broke off abruptly. But this is monstrous tedious for your ladyship, and for you, Miss Armitage, forgive me. Her ladyship protested the contrary, professing a deep interest in military matters, and inviting his lordship to continue. Lord Wellington, however, ignoring the invitation, turned the conversation upon life in Lisbon, inquiring hopefully whether they found the place afforded them adequate entertainment. Indeed, yes, Lady Omoy assured him. We are very gay at times. There are private theatricals and dances, occasionally an official ball, and we are promised picnics and water-parties, now that the summer is here. And in the autumn, ma'am, we may find you a little hunting. His lordship promised them. Plenty of foxes. A rough country, though. But what's that to an Irish woman? He caught the quickening of Miss Armitage's eye. The prospect interests you, I see. Miss Armitage admitted it, and thus they made conversation for a while. What time the great soldier sipped his wine and water to wash the dust of his morning ride from his throat. When at last he set down an empty glass, Sir Terence took this as the intimation of his readiness to deal with official matters, and rising, he announced himself entirely at his lordship's service. Lord Wellington claimed his attention for a full hour, with the details of several matters that are not immediately concerned with this narrative. Having done, he rose at last from Sir Terence's desk, at which he had been sitting and took up his riding-crop and cock-tat from the chair where he had placed them. And now, he said, I think I will ride into Lisbon and endeavor to come to an understanding, with Count Redondo and Don Miguel Forges. Sir Terence advanced to open the door, but Wellington checked him with a sudden sharp inquiry. You published my order against dueling, did you not? Immediately upon receiving it, sir. Ha! it doesn't seem to have taken long for the order to be infringed, then. His manner was severe, his eyes stern. Sir Terence was conscious of a cookinging of his pulses. Nevertheless, his answer was calmly regretful. I am afraid not. The great man nodded. Disgraceful, I heard of it from Fletcher this morning. Captain What's-his-name had just reported himself under arrest. I understand, and Fletcher had received a note from you giving the grounds for this. The deplorable part of these things is that they always happen in the most troublesome manner conceivable. In Berkeley's case, the victim was a nephew of the patriarchs. Samovall now was a person of even greater consequence, a close friend of several members of the council. His death will be deeply resented, and may set up fresh difficulties. It is monstrous vexatious. And abruptly he asked, What did they quarrel about? Omoid trembled, and his glance avoided the other's gimlet eye. The only quarrel that I am aware of between them, he said, was concerned with this very enactment of your lordship's. Samovall proclaimed it infamous, and Tremaine resented the term. Hot words passed between them, but the altercation was allowed to go no further at the time, by myself and others who were present. His lordship had raised his brows. By Gad, sir, he ejaculated. There almost appears to be some justification for this captain. He was one of your military secretaries, was he not? He was. Ha, pity pity. His lordship was thoughtful for a moment. Then he dismissed the matter. But then orders are orders, and soldiers must learn to obey implicitly. British soldiers of all degrees seem to find the lesson difficult. We must inculcate it more sternly. That is all. Omoid's honest soul was in torturing revolt against the falsehoods he had implied. And to this man of all men, to this man whom he reverenced above all others, who stood to him for the very fount of military honour and lofty principle, he was in such a mood that one more question on the subject from Wellington. And the whole ghastly truth must have come pouring from his lips. But no other question came. Instead, his lordship turned on the threshold and held out his hand. Not a step further, Omoi. I've left you a massive work and you are short of a secretary, so don't waste any of your time on courtesies. I shall hope still to find the ladies in the garden so that I may take my leave without inconveniencing them. And he was gone, stepping briskly with clicking spurs, leaving Omoi hunched now in his chair, his body, the very expression of the dejection that filled his soul. In the garden his lordship came upon Miss Armitage alone, still seated by the table under the trellis, from which the cloth had by now been removed. She rose at his approach, and in spite of gesture to her, to remain seated, I was seeking Lady Omoi, said he, to take my leave of her. I may not have the pleasure of coming to Monsanto again. She is on the terrace, I think, said Miss Armitage. I will find her for your lordship. Let us find her together, he said amably, and so turned and went with her towards the archway. You said your name is Armitage, I think, he commented. Sir Terence said so. His eyes twinkled. You possess an exceptional virtue, said he, to be truthful is common, to be accurate rare. Well then, Sir Terence said so. Once I had a great friend of the name of Armitage. I have lost sight of him these many years. We were at school together in Brussels. At Maserco Burs, she surprised him by saying, that would be John Armitage, my uncle. God bless my soul, ma'am, he ejaculated. But I gathered you worked Irish, and Jack Armitage came from Yorkshire. My mother is Irish, and we live in Ireland now. I was born there, but father, nonetheless, was John Armitage's brother. He looked at her with increased interest, marking the straight supple lines of her, and the handsome, high-bred face. His lordship, remember, never lacked an appreciative eye for a fine woman. So your Jack Armitage's niece, give me news of him, my dear. She did so. Jack Armitage was well and prospering, had made a rich marriage, and retired from the Blues many years ago to live at Northampton. He listened with interest, and thus out of his boyhood friendship for her uncle, which of late years he had had no opportunity to express, spring there and then a kindness for the niece. Her own personal charms may have contributed to it, for the great soldier was intensely responsive to the appeal of beauty. They reached the terrace. Lady Omoy was nowhere in sight, but Lord Wellington was too much engrossed in his discovery to be troubled. My dear, he said, if I can serve you at any time, both for Jack's sake and your own, I hope that you will let me know of it. She looked at him a moment, and he saw her color come and go, arguing a sudden agitation. You tempt me, sir, she said with a wistful smile. Then yield to the temptation, child. He urged her kindly. Those keen, penetrating eyes of his, perceiving trouble here. It isn't for myself, she responded. Yet there is something I would ask you, if I dare. Something I had intended to ask you in any case, if I could find the opportunity, to be frank, that is why I was waiting there in the garden just now. It was to waylay you. I hoped for a word with you. Well, well, he encouraged her. It should be the easier now, since in a sense we find that we are old friends. He was so kind, so gentle, despite that stern, strong face of his, that she melted at once to his persuasion. It is about Lt. Richard Butler. She began. Ah, said he lightly. I feared as much when you said it was not for yourself you had a favor to ask. But looking at him, she instantly perceived how he had understood her. Mr. Butler, she said, is the officer who was guilty of the affair at Tavora? He knit his brows and thought. Butler, Tavora, he muttered questioningly. Suddenly his memory found what it was seeking. Oh, yes, the violated nunnery. His thin lips tightened. The sternness of his face increased. Yes, he inquired, but the tone was now forbidding. Nevertheless, she was not deterred. Mr. Butler is Lady Omoy's brother. She said. He stared a moment, taken aback. Good God, you don't say so, child. Her brother, Omoy's brother-in-law. And Omoy never said a word to me about it. What should he say? Sir Terence himself pledged his word to the Council of Regency that Mr. Butler would be shot when taken. Did he aghad? He was still further surprised out of his sternness. Something of a Roman this Omoy in his conception of duty? Hum, the Council no doubt demanded this. So I understand, my lord. Lady Omoy, realizing her brother's grave danger, is very deeply troubled. Naturally, he agreed. But what can I do, Miss Armitage? What were the actual facts? Do you happen to know? She recited them, putting the case bravely for the scape-grace Mr. Butler, dwelling particularly upon the error under which he was laboring, that he had imagined himself to be knocking at the gates of a monastery of Dominican friars, that he had broken into the convent because denied admittance, and because he suspected some treasonous reason for that denial. He heard her out, watching her with those keen eyes of his the while. Hum, you make out so good a case for him that one might almost believe you instructed by the gentleman himself, yet I gather that nothing has since been heard of him. Nothing, sir, since he vanished from Tavora nearly two months ago, and I have only repeated to your lordship the tale that was told by this sergeant, and the troopers who reported the matter to Sir Robert Crawford on their return. He was very thoughtful. Leaning on the balustrade, he looked out across the Sunlit Valley, turning his boldly chiseled profile to his companion. At last he spoke slowly, reflectively, but if this were really so, Amir Blunder, I see no sufficient grounds to threaten him with capital punishment. His subsequent desertion, if he has deserted, I mean if nothing has happened to him, is really the grave or matter of the two. I gathered, sir, that he was to be sacrificed to the Council of Regency, a sort of scapegoat. He swung round sharply, and the sudden blaze of his eyes almost terrified her. Instantly he was cold again and inscrutable. Ah, you are oddly well informed throughout, but of course you would be, he added with an appraising look into that intelligent face, in which he now caught a faint likeness of Jack Armitage. Well, well, my dear, I am very glad you have told me of this. If Mr. Butler is ever taken, and in danger, there will be a court-martial, of course. Send me word of it, and I will see that what I can do, both for your sake and for the sake of strict justice. Oh, not for my sake, she protested, reddening slightly at the gentle imputation. Mr. Butler is nothing to me. That is to say, he is just my cousin. It is for Una's sake that I am asking this. Why then, for Lady Omoise's sake, since you ask it, he replied readily, but he warned her. Say nothing of it until Mr. Butler is found. It is possible that he believed that Butler never would be found. And remember, I promise only to give the matter my attention. If it is as you represent it, I think you may be sure that the worst that will befall Mr. Butler will be dismissal from the service. He deserves that. But I hope I should be the last man to permit a British officer to be used as a scapegoat or a burnt offering to the mob or to any council of regency. By the way, who told you this about a scapegoat? Captain Tremaine. Captain Tremaine. Oh, the man who killed Samovall. He didn't. She cried. On that almost fierce denial his Lordship looked at her, raising his eyebrows in astonishment. But I am told that he did. And he is under arrest for it, this moment. For that and for breaking my order against dueling. You are not told the truth, by Lord. Captain Tremaine says that he didn't. And if he says so, it is so. Oh, of course, Miss Armitage. He was a man of unparalleled valor and boldness. Yet so fierce was she in that moment that for the life of him he dared not have contradicted her. Captain Tremaine is the most honorable man I know, she continued. And if he had killed Samovall, he would never have denied it. He would have proclaimed it to all the world. There is no need for all this heat, my dear. He assured her. The point is not one that can remain in doubt. The seconds of the duel will be forthcoming, and they will tell us who were the principles. There were no seconds, she informed him. No seconds, he cried in horror. Do you mean that they just fought a rough in tumble fight? I mean they never fought at all. As for this tale of a duel, I ask your lordship, had Captain Tremaine desired a secret meeting with Count Samovall, would he have chosen this of all places in which to hold it? This? This, the fight, whoever fought it, took place in the quadrangle there at midnight. He was overcome with astonishment, and he showed it. Upon my soul, he said, I do not appear to have been told any of the facts. Strange that Omoi should never have mentioned that. He muttered, and then inquired suddenly. Where was Tremaine arrested? Here, she informed him. Here? He was here then, at midnight? What was he doing here? I don't know, but whatever he was doing, can your lordship believe that he would have come here to fight a secret duel? It certainly puts a monstrous strain upon belief, said he, but what can he have been doing here? I don't know, she repeated. She wanted to add a warning of Omoi. She was tempted to tell his lordship of the odd words that Omoi had used to her last night concerning Tremaine. But she hesitated, and her courage failed her. Lord Wellington was so great, amen, bearing the destinies of nations upon his shoulders. And already he had wasted upon her so much of the time that belonged to the world and history. That she feared to trespass further. And whilst she hesitated came Colquihon Grant clanking across the quadrangle, looking for his lordship. He had come up, he announced, standing straight and stiff before them, to see Omoi. But hearing of Lord Wellington's presence had preferred to see his lordship in the first instance. And indeed you arrive very opportunely, Grant, his lordship confessed. He turned to take his leave of Jack Armitage's niece. I'll not forget either Mr. Butler or Captain Tremaine, he promised her. And his stern face softened into a gentle, friendly smile. They are very fortunate in their champion. Recorded by Peter Strom in San Pedro de Atacama, Chile. On March 1, 2019 They were alone together in the quadrangle under the trellis, through which the sun, already high, was dappling the table at which his lordship sat. It would be easier to read if it were not for the dueling swords. Those in the nature of Samavel's wound certainly point unanswerably to a duel. Otherwise there would be considerable evidence that Samavel was a spy, caught in the act, and dealt without a hand, as he deserved. How count Samavel a spy? In the French interest, answered the colonel without emotion, acting upon the instructions of the sous-affection, whose tool he had become. And colonel Grant proceeded to relate precisely what he knew of Samavel. Lord Wellington sat a while in silence, cogitating. Then he rose, and his piercing eyes looked up at the colonel, who stood a good head taller than himself. Is this the evidence of which you spoke? By no means was the answer. The evidence I have secured is much more palpable. I have it here. He produced a little wallet of red Morocco, bearing the initial S, surmounted by a coronet. Opening it he selected from it some papers, speaking the while. I thought it was well before I left last night, to make an examination of the body. This is what I found, and it contains, among other lesser documents, these to which I would draw your lordship's attention. First this. And he placed in Lord Wellington's hand a holograph, note, from the Prince of Esslingen, introducing the bearer, Monsieur de la Flesh, his confidential agent, who would consult with the count, and thanking the count for the valuable information already received from him. His lordship sat down again to read the letter. It is a full confirmation of what you have told me, he said calmly. Then this, said Colonel Grant, and he placed upon the table a note in French of the approximate number and disposition of the British troops in Portugal at the time. The handwriting is Samaval's own, as those who know it will have no difficulty in discerning. And now this, sir. He unfolded a small sketch map, bearing the title also in French, probable position and extent of the fortifications north of Lisbon. The notes at the foot, he added, are in cipher, and it is the ordinary cipher employed by the French, which in itself proves how deeply Samaval was involved. Here is a translation of it. And he placed before his chief a sheet of paper, on which Lord Wellington read. This is based upon my own personal knowledge of the country, odd scraps of information received from time to time, and my personal verification of the roads closed to traffic in that region. It is intended merely as a guide to the actual locale of the fortifications, an exact plan of which I hope shortly to obtain. His lordship considered it very attentively, but without betraying the least discomposure. For a man working upon such slight data as he himself confesses, was the quiet comment, he is damnably accurate. It is as well, I think, that this did not reach Marshal Messina. My own assumption is that he put off sending it, intending to replace it by the actual plan, which he here confesses to the expectation of obtaining shortly. I think he died at the right moment, anything else? Indeed, said Colonel Grant, I have kept the best for the last. And unfolding yet another document, he placed it in the hands of the commander in chief. It was Lord Liverpool's note of the troops to be embarked for Lisbon in June and July, the note abstracted from the dispatch carried by Captain Garfield. His lordship's lips tightened as he considered it. His death was timely indeed, damned timely, and the man who killed him deserves to be mentioned in dispatches. Nothing else, I suppose. The rest is of little consequence, sir. Very well, he rose. You will leave these with me and the wallet as well. If you please, I am on my way to confer with the members of the Council of Regency, and I am glad to go armed with so stout a weapon as this. Whatever may be the ultimate finding of the court, Marshal. The present assumption must be that Samavel met the death of a spy caught in the act, as you suggested. That is the only conclusion the Portuguese government can draw, when I lay these papers before it. They will effectively silence all protests. Shall I tell, oh, moi? inquired the Colonel. Oh, certainly! answered his lordship instantly to change his mind. Stay! he considered, his chin in his hands, his eyes dreamy. Better not, perhaps. Better not tell anybody. Let us keep this to ourselves for the present. It has no direct bearing on the matter to be tried. By the way, when does the court, Marshal, sit? I have just heard that Marshal Beresford has ordered it to sit on Thursday here at Monsanto. His lordship considered. Perhaps I shall be present. I may be at Taurus Vedrus until then. It is a very odd affair. What is your own impression of it, Grant? Have you formed any? Grant smiled darkly. I have been piecing things together. The result is rather curious, and still very mystifying, still leaving a deal to be explained. And somehow this wallet doesn't fit into the scheme at all. You shall tell me about it as we ride into Lisbon. I want you to come with me. Lady, oh, moi, must forgive me if I take French leave, since she has nowhere to be found. The truth was that her ladyship had purposely gone into hiding after the fashion of suffering animals that are denied expression of their pain. She had gone off with her load of sorrow and anxiety into the thicket on the flank of Monsanto, and there Sylvia found her presently, dejectedly seated by a spring on a bank that was thick with flowering violets. Her ladyship was in tears, her mind swollen to bursting point, by the secret which it sought to contain, but felt itself certainly unable to contain much longer. Why, Euna, dear, cried Miss Armitage, kneeling beside her and putting a motherly arm about that full-grown child. What is this? Her ladyship wept copiously, the springs of her grief gushing forth in response to that sympathetic touch. Oh, my dear, I am so distressed. I shall go mad, I think. I am sure I have never deserved all this trouble. I have always been considerate of others. You know I won't give pain to anyone, and Dick has always been so thoughtless. Dick, said Miss Armitage, and there was less sympathy in her voice. It is Dick you are thinking about at present. Of course all this trouble has come through Dick, I mean, she recovered, that all my troubles began with this affair of Dick's, and now there is net under arrest and to be court-martialed. But what has Captain Tremaine to do with Dick? Nothing, of course, her ladyship agreed with more than usual self-restraint, but it's one more trouble on another, oh, it's more than I can bear. I know, my dear, I know, Miss Armitage said soothingly, and her own voice was not so steady. You don't know how can you, it isn't your brother or your friend, it isn't as if you cared very much for either of them. If you did, if you loved Dick or Ned, you might realize what I am suffering. Miss Armitage's eyes looked straight ahead into the thick green foliage, and there was an odd smile, half-whisple, half-scornful on her lips. Yet I have done what I could, she said presently. I have spoken to Lord Wellington about them both. Lady Omoye checked her tears to look at her companion, and there was dread in her eyes. You have spoken to Lord Wellington? Yes, the opportunity came, and I took it. And whatever did you tell him? She was all a tremble now, as she clutched Miss Armitage's hand. Miss Armitage related what had passed, how she had explained the true facts of Dick's case to his lordship, how she had protested her faith that Tremaine was incapable of lying, and that if he said he had not killed Samobal, it was certain that he had not done so. And finally, how his lordship had promised to bear both cases in his mind. That doesn't seem very much, her ladyship complained. But he said that he would never allow a British officer to be made a scapegoat, and that if things proved to be as I stated them, he would see that the worst that happened to Dick would be his dismissal from the army. He asked me to let him know immediately if Dick were found. More than ever was her ladyship on the very edge of confiding. A chance word might have broken down the last barrier of her will. But that word was not spoken, and so she was given the opportunity of first consulting her brother. He laughed when he heard the story. A trap to take me, that's all, he pronounced it. My dear girl, that stiff-necked maranette, knows nothing of forgiveness for a military offense. Discipline is the god at whose shrine he worships. And he afforded her anecdotes to illustrate and confirm his assertion of Lord Wellington's ruthlessness. I tell you, he concluded, it's nothing but a trap to catch me, and if you had been fool enough to yield and to have blabbed of my presence to Sylvia, you would have had it proved to you. She was terrified, and of course convinced, for she was easy of conviction, believing always the last person to whom she spoke. She sat down on one of the boxes that furnished that cheerless refuge of Mr. Butler's. Then what's to become of Ned? She cried. Oh, I had hoped that we had found a way out at last. He raised himself on his elbow on the camp bed. They had fitted up for him. Be easy now, he bade her impatiently. They can't do anything to Ned until they find him guilty. And how are they going to find him guilty when he's innocent? Yes, but appearances. Fiddlesticks, he answered her, and the expression chosen was mere concession to her sex, and not at all what Mr. Butler intended. Appearances can't establish guilt. Do be sensible, and remember that they will have to prove that he killed Samavel. And you can't prove a thing to be what it isn't. You can't. Are you sure? Certainly sure. He replied with emphasis. Do you know that I shall have to give evidence before the court? She announced resentfully. It was an announcement that gave him pause. Thoughtfully he stroked his abominable tuft of red beard. Then he dismissed the matter with a shrug in his smile. Well, and what of it? He cried. They are not likely to bully you or cross-examine you. Just tell them what you saw from the balcony. Indeed you can't very well say anything else, or they will see that you are lying, and then Heaven alone knows what may happen to you, as well as me. She got up in a pet. You're callous, Dick. Callous. She told him. Oh, I wish you had never come to me for shelter. He looked at her and sneered. That's a matter you can soon mend. He told her. Call up Terence and the others and have me shot. I promise I shall make no resistance. You see, I'm not able to resist even if I would. Oh, how can you think it? She was indignant. Well, what is a poor devil to think? You blow hot and cold all in a breath. I'm sick and ill and feverish. He continued in self-pity. And now even you find me in trouble. I wish to God they'd shoot me and make an end. I'm sure it would be best for everybody. And now she was on her knees beside him, soothing him, protesting that he had misunderstood her, that she had meant. Oh, she did not know what she had meant. She was so distressed on his account. And there's never the need to be, he assured her. Surely you can be guided by me if you want to help me. As soon as ever my leg gets well again, I'll be after fending for myself. And trouble you no further. But if you want to shelter me until then, do it thoroughly, and don't give way to fear at every shadow without substance that falls across your path. She promised it, and on that promise left him. And, believing him, she bore herself more cheerfully for the remainder of the day. But that evening, after they had dined her fears and anxieties, drove her at last to seek her natural and legal protector. Sir Terrence had sauntered off towards the house, gloomy and silent, as he had been throughout the meal. She ran after him now and came tripping lightly at his side, up the steps. She put her arm through his. Terrence, dear, you are not going back to work again, she pleaded. He stopped, and from his fine height looked down upon her with a curious smile. Slowly he disengaged his arm from the clasp of her own. I am afraid I must, he answered coldly. I have a great deal to do, and I am short of a secretary. When this inquiry is over I shall have more time to myself, perhaps. There was something so repellent in his voice, in his manner of uttering these last words, that she stood rebuffed and watched him vanish into the building. Then she stamped her foot, and her pretty mouth trembled. Oh, she said aloud. End of Chapter 15 Read by Peter Strom on the coast of Chile On March 2nd, 2019 Chapter 16 Of The Snare by Raphael Sabatini This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Chapter 16 The Evidence The board of officers convened by Marshall Beresford to form the court that was to try Captain Tremaine was presided over by General Sir Harry Stapleton, who was in command of the British troops quartered in Lisbon. It included, amongst others, the adjutant general, Sir Terrence Omoy, Colonel Fletcher of the Engineers, who had come in haste from Taurus Vedris, having first desired to be included in the board chiefly on account of his friendship for Tremaine, and Major Carothers, the Judge Advocate's task of conducting the case against the prisoner, was deputed to the quartermaster of Tremaine's own regiment, Major Slan. The court sat in a long, cheerless hall, once the refectory of the Franciscans, who had been the first tenants of Monsanto. It was stone-flagged, the windows set at a height of some ten feet from the ground. The bare whitewashed walls hung with very wooden portraits of long departed kings and princes of Portugal, who had been benefactors of the order. The court occupied the abbots' table, which was set on a shallow dais, at the end of the room, a table of stone with a covering of oak, over which a green cloth had been spread. The officers, twelve in number, besides the President, sat with their backs to the wall, immediately under the inevitable picture of the Last Supper. The court being sworn Captain Tremaine was brought in by the Provost Marshal's Guard, and given a stool placed immediately before, and a few paces from the table. Perfectly calm and imperturbable, he saluted the court and sat down, his guards remaining some paces behind him. He had declined all offers of a friend to represent him, on the grounds that the court could not possibly afford him a case to answer. The President, a florid, rather pompous man, who spoke a faint lisp, cleared his throat and read the charge against the prisoner from the sheet, with which he had been supplied. The charge of having violated the recent enactment against dueling, made by the Commander-in-Chief of his Majesty's forces in the peninsula, insofar as he had fought a duel with Count Geronimo de Semeval. End of murder insofar as that duel, conducted in an irregular manner, and without any witnesses, had resulted in the death of the said Count Geronimo de Semeval. How say you then, Captain Tremaine? The Judge Advocate challenged him. Are you guilty of these charges, or not guilty? Not guilty. The President sat back and observed the prisoner with an eye that was officially benign. Tremaine's glance considered the court, and met the concerned and grave regard of his Colonel, of his friend Carithers, and of his two other friends, of his own regiment. The cold indifference of three officers of the fourteenth, then stationed in Lisbon, with whom he was unacquainted, and the utter inscrutability of Ohmoy's rather lowering glance, which profoundly intrigued him. And lastly, the official hostility of Major Swan, who was on his feet setting forth case against him, of the remaining members of the court, he took no heed. From the opening address it did not seem to Captain Tremaine, as if this case, which had been hurriedly prepared by Major Swan, chiefly that same morning, would amount to very much. Briefly the Major announced his intention of establishing to the satisfaction of the court, how, on the night of the 28th of May, the prisoner, in flagrant violation of an enactment in a general order of the 26th of that same month, had engaged in a duel with Count Geronimo de Semmelville, a peer of the realm of Portugal. Followed a short statement of the case from the point of view of the prosecution, an anticipation of the evidence to be called upon, which the Major thought, rather sanguinly, opined Captain Tremaine to convict the accused. He concluded with an assurance that the evidence of the prisoner's guilt was as nearly direct as evidence could be in a case of murder. The first witness called was the butler, Mullins. He was introduced by the Surgeon Major, stationed by the double doors at the end of the hall, from the enter room where the witnesses commanded to be present were awaiting. Mullins, rather less venerable than usual as a consequence of agitation and affliction on behalf of Captain Tremaine, to whom he was attached, stated nervously the facts within his knowledge. He was occupied with the silver and the pantry, having remained up in case Sir Terence, who was working late in his study, should require anything before going to bed. Sir Terence called him and— At what time did Sir Terence call you? asked the Major. It was ten minutes past twelve, sir, by the clock in my pantry. Are you sure that the clock was right? Quite sure, sir, I had put it right that same evening. Very well, then, Sir Terence called you at ten minutes past twelve. Pray continue. He gave me a letter addressed to the Commissary General. Take that, says he, to the Sergeant of the Guard at once, and tell him to be sure that it is forwarded to the Commissary General first thing in the morning. I went out at once in on the lawn in the quadrangle. I saw a man lying on his back on the grass in another man kneeling beside him. I ran across to them. It was a bright moonlight night, bright as day it was, and you could see quite clear, the gentleman that was kneeling looks up at me, and I seize it was Captain Tremaine, sir. What's this, Captain, dear? says I. It counts Sam of all, and he's killed, says he. For God's sake, go and fetch somebody. So I ran back to tell Sir Terence, and Sir Terence, he came out with me, and mighty startled he was at what he found there. What's happened, says he, and the Captain answers him just as he had answered me. It's Count Sam of all, and he's killed. But how did it happen, says Sir Terence. Sure, and that's just what I want to know, says the Captain. I found him here. And then Sir Terence turns to me and, Mullins, says he, just fetched the Guard. And, of course, I went at once. Was there anyone else present? Not in the quadrangle, sir, but Lady Omoy was on the balcony of her room at the time. Well then, you fetched the Guard. What happened when you had returned? Colonel Grant arrived, sir, and I understood him to say that he had been following Count Sam of all. Which way did Colonel Grant come, put in the President? By the gate from the terrace. Was it open? No, sir. Sir Terence himself went to open the wicket when Colonel Grant knocked. Sir Harry nodded, and Major Swan resumed the examination. What happened next? Sir Terence ordered the Captain under arrest. Did Captain Tremayn submit at once? Well, not quite at once, sir. He naturally made some bother. Good God, he says, you'll never be after thinking I killed him. I tell you, I just found him here like this. What were you doing here, then, says Sir Terence? I was coming to see you, says the Captain. What about, says Sir Terence? And with that the Captain got angry and refused to be cross-questioned, and went off to report himself under arrest as he was bid. That closed the butler's evidence, and the judge advocate looked across at the prisoner. Have you any questions for the witness? he inquired. None, replied Captain Tremayn. He has given his evidence very faithfully and accurately. Major Swan invited the court to question the witness in any manner it considered desirable. The only one to avail himself of the invitation was Carothers, who, out of his friendship and concern for Tremayn, and a conviction of Tremayn's innocence, begotten chiefly by that friendship, desired to bring out anything that might tell in his favor. What was Captain Tremayn's bearing when he spoke to you and to Sir Terence? Quite as usual, sir. He was quite calm and not at all perturbed. Devil a bit, not until Sir Terence ordered him under arrest, and then he was a little hot. Thank you, Mullens. Dismissed by the court, Mullens would have departed, but that upon being told by the sergeant major, that he was at liberty to remain if he chose, he found a seat on one of the benches. Ranged against the wall. The next witness was Sir Terence, who gave his evidence quietly from his place at the board immediately on the president's right. He was pale, but otherwise composed, and the first part of his evidence was no more than a confirmation of what Mullens had said, an exact and strictly truthful statement of the circumstances as he had witnessed them from the moment when Mullens had summoned him. You were present, I believe, Sir Terence, said Major Swan, at an altercation that arose on the previous day between Captain Tremayn and the deceased. Yes, it happened at lunch here at Monsanto. What was the nature of it? Count Samovall permitted himself to criticize adversely Lord Wellington's enactment against dueling, and Captain Tremayn defended it. They became a little heated and the fact was mentioned that Samovall himself was a famous swordsman. Captain Tremayn made the remark that famous swordsmen were required by Count Samovall's country to save it from invasion. The remark was offensive to the deceased, and although the subject was abandoned out of regard for the ladies present, it was an abandon on a threat from Count Samovall to continue it later. Was it continued? Of that I have no knowledge. Invited to cross-examine the witness, Captain Tremayn again declined, admitting freely that all that Sir Terence had said was strictly true. Then carithers, who appeared to be intent to act as the prisoner's friend, took up the examination of his chief. It is, of course, admitted that Captain Tremayn enjoyed free access to Monsanto, practically at all hours, in his capacity as your military secretary. Sir Terence? Admitted, said Sir Terence, and it is therefore possible that he might have come upon the body of the deceased, just as Mullins came upon it. It is possible, certainly, the evidence to come will no doubt determine whether it is an tenable opinion. Admitting this, then, the attitude in which Captain Tremayn was discovered would be a perfectly natural one. It would be natural that he should investigate the identity and hurt of the man he found there. Certainly. But it would hardly be natural that he should linger by the body of a man that he had himself slain, thereby incurring the risk of being discovered. That is a question for the Court rather than for me. Thank you, Sir Terence. And as no one else desired to question him, Sir Terence resumed his seat, and Lady Omoy was called. She came in very white and trembling, accompanied by Miss Armitage, whose admittance was suffered by the Court, since she would not be called upon to give evidence. One of the officers of the 14th, seated on the extreme right of the table, made gallant haste to set a chair for her ladyship, which she accepted gratefully. The oath administered, she was invited gently by Major Swan to tell the Court what she knew of the case before them. But, but I know nothing. She faltered in evident distress, and Sir Terence, his elbow leaning on the table, covered his mouth with his hand, that its movements might not betray him. His eyes glowered upon her with a ferocity that was hardly dissembled. If you will take the trouble to tell the Court what you saw from your balcony, the Major insisted, the Court will be grateful. Proceeding her agitation, and attributing it to nervousness, moved also by that delicate loveliness of hers, and by deference to the adjutant general's lady, Sir Harry Stapleton intervened. Is Lady Omoy's evidence really necessary? he asked. Does it contribute any fresh fact regarding the discovery of the body? No, Sir, Major Swan admitted. It is merely a corroboration of what we have already heard from Mullens and Sir Terence. Then why unnecessarily distress the lady? Oh, for my own part! the prosecutor was submitting, when Sir Terence cut in. I think that in the prisoner's interest perhaps Lady Omoy will not mind being distressed a little. It was at her he looked, and for her and Tremaine alone, that he intended the cutting lash of sarcasm concealed from the rest of the Court by his smooth accent. Mullens has said, I think, that her ladyship was on the balcony when he came into the quadrangle. Her evidence, therefore, takes us further back in point of time than does Mullens. Again, the sarcastic double meaning was only for those two, considering that the prisoner is being tried for his life. I do not think we should miss anything that may, however slightly, affect our judgment. Sir Terence is right, I think, Sir, the Judge Advocate supported. Very well then, said the President, proceed if you please. Will you be good enough to tell the Court, Lady Omoy, how you came to be upon the balcony? Her pallor had deepened, and her eyes looked more than ordinarily large and childlike, as they turned this way and that to survey the members of the Court. Nervously she dabbed her lips with a handkerchief, before answering mechanically, as she had been schooled. I heard a cry, and I ran out. You were in bed at the time, of course, quote her husband, interrupting. What on earth has that to do with it, Sir Terence? The President rebuked him out of his earnest desire to cut this examination as short as possible. The question, Sir, does not seem to me. To be without point, replied Omoy. He was judicially smooth and self-contained. It is intended to enable us to form an opinion as to the lapse of time, between her ladyships hearing the cry and reaching the balcony. Grudgingly the President admitted the point, and the question was repeated. He yes, came Lady Omoy's tremulous faltering answer. I was in bed. But not asleep, or were you asleep? Wrapped Omoy again, and in answer to the President's impatient glance, again explained himself. We should know whether perhaps the cry might not have been repeated several times before her ladyships heard it. That is of value. It would be more regular, ventured the judge advocate, if Sir Terence would reserve his examination of the witness until she has given her evidence. Very well, grumbled Sir Terence, and he sat back, foiled for the moment in his deliberate intent to torture her into admissions that must betray her if made. I was not asleep, she told the court, thus answering her husband's last question. I heard a cry and ran to the balcony at once. That, that is all. But what did you see from the balcony? asked Major Swan. It was dark, and of course it, it was dark, she answered. Surely not dark, Lady Omoy, there was a moon, I think, a full moon. Yes, but, but there was a good deal of shadow in the garden, and I couldn't see anything at first. But you did, eventually? Oh, eventually, yes, eventually. Her fingers were twisting and untwisting the handkerchief they held, and her distressed loveliness was very piteous to see. Yet it seems, to have occurred to none of them, that this distress in the minor contradictions into which it led her were the result of her intent to conceal the truth, of her terror, lest it should nevertheless be wrung from her. Only, oh, Moy, watching her and reading into her every word and glance, and gesture, the signs of her falsehood, knew the hideous thing she strove to hide. Even it seemed, at the cost of her lover's life, to his lacerated soul, her torture was balm, gloating he watched her, then, and watched her lover, marveling at the black guard's complete self-mastery and impassivity even now. Major Swan was urging her gently. Eventually, then, what was it you saw? I saw a man lying on the ground, and another kneeling over him, and then, almost at once, Mullins came out and… I don't think we need to take this any further, Major Swan. The President again interposed. We have heard what happened after Mullins came out. Unless the prisoner wishes began the judge advocate. By no means, said Tremaine composedly, although outwardly impassive, he had been watching her intently, and it was his eyes that had perturbed her more than anything in that court. It was she who must determined for him how to proceed, how far to defend himself. He had hoped that by now Dick Butler might have been got away, so that it would have been safe to tell the whole truth, although he began to doubt how far that could avail him, how far indeed it would be believed in the absence of Dick Butler. Her evidence told him that such hopes as he may have entertained had been idle, and that he must depend for his life simply upon the court's inability to bring the guilt home to him. In this he had some confidence, for knowing himself innocent, it seemed to him incredible that he could be pruing guilty. Failing that, nothing short of the discovery of the real slayer of Samavel could save him. And that was a matter wrapped in the profoundest mystery. The only man who could conceivably have thought Samavel in such a place was Sir Terence himself. But then it was utterly inconceivable that in that case Sir Terence, who was the very soul of honour, should not only keep silent and allow another man to suffer, but actually sit here in judgment upon that other, and besides there was no quarrel nor ever had been between Sir Terence and Samavel. There is, Major Swan was saying, just one other matter upon which I should like to question Lady Omoy, and there upon he proceeded to do so. Your ladyship will remember that on the day before the event in which Count Samavel met his death, he was one of a small luncheon party at your house here in Monsanto. Yes, she replied, wondering fearfully what might be coming now. Would your ladyship be good enough to tell the court? Who were the other members of that party? It, it was hardly a party, sir, she answered, with her unconquerable insistence upon trifles. You were just Sir Terence and myself, Miss Armitage, Count Samavel, Colonel Grant, Major Carithers, and Captain Tremaine. Can your ladyship recall any words that passed between the deceased and Captain Tremaine on that occasion? Words of disagreement, I mean. She knew that there had been something, but in her benumbed state of mind she was incapable of remembering what it was. All that remained in her memory was Sylvia's warning after she and her cousin had left the table. Sylvia's insistence, that she should call Captain Tremaine away to avoid trouble, between himself and the Count. But search as she would, the actual subject of disagreement eluded her. Moreover, it occurred to her suddenly, and sowed fresh terror in her soul, that whatever it was it would tell against Captain Tremaine. I am afraid I don't remember, she faltered at last. Try to think, Lady Omoy. I have tried, but I can't. Her voice had fallen almost to a whisper. Need we insist, put in the President compassionately, there were sufficient witnesses as to what passed on that occasion without further harassing her ladyship. Quite so, sir, the Major agreed in his dry voice. It only remains for the prisoner to question the witness if he so wishes. Tremaine shook his head. It is quite unnecessary, sir, he assured the President, and never saw the swift grim smile that flashed across Sir Terence's stern face. Of the court Sir Terence was the only member who could have desired to prolong the painful examination of her ladyship. But he perceived from the President's attitude that he could not do so without betraying the vindictiveness actuating him. And so he remained silent for the President. He would have gone so far as to suggest that her ladyship should be invited to remaining court against the possibility of further evidence being presently required from her, but that he perceived there was no necessity to do so. Her deadly anxiety concerning the prisoner must in itself be sufficient to determine her to remain. As indeed it proved, accompanied and half supported by Miss Armitage, who is almost as pale as herself, but otherwise very steady in her bearing, Lady Omoy made her way with faltering steps to the benches ranged against the sidewall, and sat there to hear the remainder of the proceedings. After the uninteresting and perfunctory evidence of the Sergeant of the Guard, who had been present when the prisoner was ordered under arrest, the next witness called was Colonel Grant. His testimony was strictly in accordance with the facts, which we know him to have witnessed. But when he was in the middle of his statement, an interruption occurred. At the extreme right of the dais on which the table stood, there was a small open door set in the wall, and giving access to a small enterum that was known, rightly or wrongly, as the abbot's chamber. That enterum communicated directly with what was now the guard room, which accounts for the newcomer being ushered in that way but the corporal at the time. At the opening of that door, the members of the court looked around in sharp annoyance, suspecting here some impertinent intrusion. The next moment, however, this was changed to a respectful surprise. There was a scraping of chairs, and they were all on their feet in token of respect for the slight man in the gray undressed frock, who entered. It was Lord Wellington. Soluting the members of the court with two fingers to his cock-cat, he immediately desired them to sit, preemptorily waving his hand, and requesting the President not to allow his entrance to interrupt or interfere with the course of the inquiry. A chair for me, if you please, Sergeant, he called, and when it was fetched, took his seat at the end of the table, with his back to the door through which he had come, and immediately facing the prosecutor, he retained his hat, but placed his riding-crop on the table before him, and the only thing he would accept was an officer's notes of the proceedings, as far as they had gone, which that officer himself was prompt to offer. With a repeated injection to the court to proceed, Lord Wellington became instantly absorbed in the study of these notes. Colonel Grant, standing very straight and stiff in the originally red coat which exposure to many weathers had faded to an autumnal brown, continued and concluded his statement of what he had seen and heard on the night of the 28th of May in the Garden of Monsanto. The Judge Advocate now invited him to turn his memory back to the luncheon party at Sartarenses on the 27th, and to tell the court of the altercation that had passed on that occasion between Captain Tremaine and Count Samovall. The conversation at table, he replied, turned as it was perhaps quite natural upon the recently published General Order prohibiting dueling and making it a capital offense for officers in his majesty's service in the peninsula. Count Samovall stigmatized the order as a degrading and arbitrary one, and spoke in defense of single combat as the only honorable method of settling differences between gentlemen. Captain Tremaine dissented rather sharply and appeared to present the term degrading, applied by the count to the enactment. Words followed, and then someone, Lady Omoy I think, and as I imagine with intent to soothe the feelings of Count Samovall, which appeared to be ruffled, appealed to his vanity by mentioning the fact that he was himself a famous swordsman. To this Captain Tremaine's observation was a rather unfortunate one, although I must confess that I was fully in sympathy with it at the time. He said as nearly as I remember, that at the moment Portugal was in urgent need of famous swords to defend her from invasion and not to increase the disorders at home. Lord Wellington looked up from the notes and thoughtfully stroked his high-bridged nose. His stern handsome face was coldly impassive. His fine eyes rested upon the prisoner, but his attention all to what Colonel Grant was saying. It was a remark of which Samovall betrayed the bitterest resentment. He demanded of Captain Tremaine that he should be more precise, and Tremaine replied that whilst he had spoken generally, Samovall was welcome to the cap if he found it fitted him. To that he added a suggestion that, as the conversation appeared to be tiresome to the ladies, it would be better to change its topic. Count Samovall consented, but with the promise, rather threateningly delivered, that it should be continued at another time. That's or is all, I think. Have you any questions for the witness, Captain Tremaine? Inquired the judge advocate. As before, Captain Tremaine's answer was in the negative, coupled with the now usual admission that Colonel Grant's statement accorded perfectly with his own recollection of the facts. The court, however, desired enlightenment on several subjects. Came, first of all, Carrether's inquiries as to the bearing of the prisoner when ordered under arrest, eliciting from Colonel Grant a variant of the usual reply. It was not inconsistent with innocence, he said. It was an answer which appeared to startle the court. And perhaps Carrether's would have acted best, in Tremaine's interest, had he left the question there. But having obtained so much, he eagerly sought for more. Would you say that it was inconsistent with guilt? He cried. Colonel Grant smiled slowly and slowly shook his head. I fear I would not go so far as that. He answered. Thereby plunging poor Carrether's into despair. And now Colonel Fletcher voiced a question agitating the minds of several members of the court. Colonel Grant, he said. You have told us that on the night in question you had count Samavel under observation, and that upon word being brought to you of his movements by one of your agents, you yourself followed him to Monsanto. Would you be good enough to tell the court why he were watching the deceased movements at the time? Colonel Grant glanced at Lord Wellington. He smiled a little reflectively and shook his head. I am afraid that the public interest will not allow me to answer your question. Since, however, Lord Wellington himself is present, I would suggest that you ask his Lordship whether I am to give you the information you require. Certainly not, his Lordship crisply, with that waiting further question. Indeed, one of my reasons for being present is to ensure that nothing on that score shall transpire. There followed a moment's silence. Then the President ventured a question. May we ask, sir, at least whether Colonel Grant's observation of count Samavel resulted from any knowledge of, or expectation of, this duel was impending. Certainly you may ask that, Lord Wellington consented. It did not, sir, said Colonel Grant in answer to the question. What grounds had you, Colonel Grant, for assuming that Count Samavel was going to Monsanto? The President asked. Chiefly, the direction taken. And nothing else? I think we are upon forbidden ground again, said Colonel Grant, and again he looked at Lord Wellington for direction. I do not see the point of the question, said Lord Wellington, replying to that glance. Colonel Grant has quite plainly informed the Court that his observation of Count Samavel had no slightest connection with this duel, nor was inspired by any knowledge or suspicion on his part, that any such duel was to be fought. With that I think the Court should be content. It has been necessary for Colonel Grant to explain to the Court his own presence at Monsanto at midnight on the twenty-eighth. It would have been better, perhaps, had he simply stated that it was fortitious, although I can understand that the Court might have hesitated to accept such a statement. That, however, is really all that concerns the matter. Colonel Grant happened to be there. That is all that the Court need to remember. Let me add, the assurance, that it would not in the least assist the Court to know more, so far as the case under consideration is concerned. In view of that, the President notified that he had nothing further to ask the witness, and Colonel Grant saluted and withdrew to a seat near Lady Omoye. There followed the evidence of major carithers, with regard to the dispute between Count Samavel and Captain Tremaine, which substantially bore out what Sartarens and Colonel Grant had already said, notwithstanding that it manifested a strong bias in favor of the prisoner. The conversation which Samavel threatened to resume does not appear to have been resumed, he added in conclusion. How can you say that, Major Swan asked him. I state my opinion, sir, flashed carithers, his chubby face reddening. Indeed, sir, you may not, the President assured him. You are upon oath to get evidence of facts directly within your own personal knowledge. It is directly within my own personal knowledge that Captain Tremaine was called away from the table by Lady Omoye, and that he did not have another opportunity of speaking with Count Samavel that day. I saw the Count leave shortly after, and at the time Captain Tremaine was still with her ladyship, as her ladyship can testify if necessary. He spent the remainder of the afternoon with me at work, and we went home together in the evening. We share the same lodging in Alcantara. There was still all the next day, said Sir Harry. Do you say that the prisoner was never out of your sight on that day too? I do not, but I can't believe. I am afraid you are going to state opinions again, Major Swan interposed. It is evidence of a kind, insisted Carothers, with the tenacity of a bulldog. He looked as if he would make it a personal matter between himself and Major Swan if he were not allowed to proceed. I can't believe that Captain Tremaine would have embroiled himself further with Count Samavel. Captain Tremaine has too high a regard for discipline and for orders, and he is the least excitable man I have ever known. Nor do I believe that he would have consented to meet Samavel without my knowledge. Not perhaps unless Captain Tremaine desired to keep the matter secret and view of the general order, which is precisely what it is contended that he did. Falsely contended, then, snapped Major Carothers, to be instantly rebuked by the President. He sat down in a huff, and the judge advocate called Private Bates, who had been on sentry duty on the night of the twenty-eight, to corroborate the evidence of the Sergeant of the Guard as to the hour at which the prisoner had driven up to Monsanto in his critical. Private Bates having been heard, Major Swan announced that he did not propose to call any further witnesses and resumed his seat. Thereupon to the President's invitation, Captain Tremaine replied that he had no witnesses to call it all. In that case, Major Swan, said Sir Harry, the Court will be glad to hear you further. And Major Swan came to his feet, again to address the Court for the prosecution. End of Chapter 16, read by Peter Strom, on the Coast of Chile, on March 3, 2019. Chapter 17 of The Snare by Raphael Sabatini This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Chapter 17 Bitter Water Major Swan may or may not have been a gifted soldier. History is silent on that point. But the surviving records of the Court Marshal, with which we are concerned, go to show that he was certainly not a gifted speaker. His vocabulary was limited. His rhetoric clumsy. And Major Carothers denounces his delivery as halting. His very voice, dull and monotonous. Also his manner, reflecting his mind on this occasion, appears to have been perfectly unimpassioned. He had been saddled with a duty, and he must perform it. He would do so conscientiously to the best of his ability. For he seems to have been a conscientious man. But he could not be expected to put his heart into the matter, since he was not inflamed by any zeal born of conviction, nor had he any of the incentives of a civil advocate to sway his audience by all possible needs. Nevertheless, the facts themselves properly marshaled, made up a dangerous case against the prisoner. Major Swan began by dwelling upon the evidence of motive. There had been a quarrel, or the beginnings of a quarrel, between the deceased and the accused. The deceased had shown himself affronted, and had been heard quite unequivocally to say that the matter could not be left at the stage at which it was interrupted, at Sir Terence's luncheon table. Major Swan dwelt for a moment upon the grounds of the quarrel. They were by no means discreditable to the accused. But it was singularly unfortunate, ironical almost, that he should have involved himself in a duel as a result of his outspoken defense of a wise measure, which made dueling in the British army a capital offense. With that, however, he did not think that the court was immediately concerned. By the duel itself, the accused had offended against the recent enactment. And moreover, the irregular manner in which the encounter had been conducted, without seconds or witnesses, rendered the accused answerable to a charge of murder, if it could be proved that he actually did engage and kill the deceased. Major Swan thought this could be proved. The irregularity of the meeting must be assigned to the enactment against which it offended, a matter which, under circumstances, considering the good character born by Captain Tremaine, would have been quite incomprehensible, was, he thought, under existing circumstances, perfectly clear. Because Captain Tremaine could not have found any friend to act for him, he was forced to forgo witnesses to the encounter. And because of the consequences to himself of the encounters becoming known, he was forced to contrive that it should be held in secret. They knew, from the evidence of Colonel Grant and Major Carithers, that the meeting was desired by Count Semivall, and they were therefore entitled to assume that, recognizing the conditions arising out of the recent enactment, the deceased had consented that the meeting should take place in this irregular fashion. However, since otherwise it could not have been held at all, and he would have been compelled to forgo the satisfaction he desired. He passed to the consideration of the locality chosen, and there he confessed that he was confronted with a mystery, yet the mystery would have been no less in the case of any other opponent than Captain Tremaine. Since it was clear beyond all doubt that a duel had been fought and Count Semivall killed, and no less clear that it was a premeditated combat, and that the deceased had gone to Bonsanto expressly to engage in it, since the dueling swords found had been identified as his property, and must have been carried by him to the encounter. The mystery, he repeated, would have been no less in the case of any other opponent than Captain Tremaine. Indeed, in the case of some other opponent, it might even have been deeper, it must be remembered, after all, that the place was one of which the accused had free access at all hours, and it was clearly proven that he availed himself of that access on the night in question. Evidence had been placed before the court, showing that he had come to Bonsanto in a curicle, at twenty minutes to twelve at the latest, and there was abundant evidence to show that he was found kneeling beside the body of the dead man, at ten minutes past twelve. The body being quite warm at the time, and the breath hardly out of it, proving that he had fallen but an instant before the arrival of Mullins, and the other witnesses who had testified. Unless Captain Tremaine could account to the satisfaction of the court, for the manner in which he had spent that half hour, Major Swann did not perceive, when all the facts of motive and circumstance were considered, what conclusion the court could reach, other than that Captain Tremaine was guilty of the death of Count Geronimo de Semaville, in a single combat fought under clandestine and irregular conditions, transforming the deed into technical murder. Upon that conclusion the Major sat down to Moppe Brau that was perspiring freely. From Lady Omoy in the background came faintly the sound of a half suppressed moan. Terrified she clutched the hand of Miss Armitage, and found that hand to lie like a thing of ice in her own. Yet she suspected nothing of the deep agitation, under her companion's outward appearance of calm. Captain Tremaine rose slowly to address the court and reply to the prosecution. As he faced his judges, now he met the smoldering eye of Sir Terence. Considering him with such malevolence that he was shocked and bewildered, was he prejudged already, and by his best friend? If so, what must be the attitude of the others? But the kindly floored countenance of the President was friendly and encouraging. There was eager anxiety for him and the gaze of his friend Carothers. He glanced at Lord Wellington, sitting at the table's end, sternly inscrutable, a mere spectator, yet one whose habit of command gave him an air that was authoritative and judicial. At length he began to speak. He had considered his defense, and he had based it mainly upon a falsehood, since the strict truth must have proved ruinous to Richard Butler. My answer, gentlemen, he said, will be a very brief one, as brief indeed as the prosecution merits, for I entertain the hope that no member of this court is satisfied that the case made out against me is by any means complete. He spoke easily, fluently, and calmly, a man supremely self-controlled. It amounts indeed to throwing upon me the onus of proving myself innocent, and that is a burden which no British laws, civil or military, would ever commit the injustice of imposing upon an accused. That certain words of disagreement passed between Count Samofall and myself on the eve of the affair in which the Count met his death, as you have heard from various witnesses, I at once and freely admitted, thereby I saved the court, trim and trouble, and some other witnesses who might have been caused the distress of having to testify against me. But that the dispute ever had any sequel, that the further subsequent discussion threatened at the time by Count Samofall ever took place, I most solemnly deny. From the moment that I left Sir Terence's luncheon table on the Saturday I never set eyes on Count Samofall again, until I discovered him dead or dying in the garden here at Monsanto, on Sunday night. I can call no witnesses to support me in this, because it is not a matter susceptible to proof by evidence, nor have I troubled to call the only witnesses I might have called, witnesses as to my character and my regard for discipline, who might have testified that any such encounter as that of which I am accused would be utterly foreign to my nature. There are officers in plenty in His Majesty's service who could bear witness that the practice of dueling is one that I hold in the utmost abhorrence, since I have frequently avowed it, and since in all my life I have never fought a single duel. My service in His Majesty's army has happily afforded me the means of dispensing with any such proof of courage, as the duel is supposed to give. I say I might have called witnesses to the fact, and I have not done so. This is because, fortunately, there are several among the members of this court to whom I have been known for many years, and who can themselves, when this court comes to consider its finding, support my present assertion. Let me ask you, then, gentlemen, whether it is conceivable that, entertaining such feelings as these towards single combat, I should have been led to depart from them under circumstances that might very well have afforded me an ample shield for refusing satisfaction to a too eager and pressing adversary. It was precisely because I hold the duel in such contempt that I spoke with such asperity to the deceased when he pronounced Lord Wellington's enactment a degrading one to men of birth, the very sentiments which I then expressed proclaimed my antipathy to the practice. How, then, should I have committed the inconsistency of accepting a challenge upon such grounds from Count Samovall? There is even more irony than Major Swann supposes in a situation which he himself has called ironical, so much then for the motives that are alleged to have actuated me. I hope you will conclude that I have answered the prosecution upon that matter. Coming to the question of fact, I cannot find that there is anything to answer, for nothing has been proved against me. True, it has been proved that I arrived at Monsanto at half past eleven, or twenty minutes to twelve on the night of the twenty-eighth. And it has been further proved that half an hour later I was discovered kneeling beside the dead body of Count Samovall. But to say that this proves that I killed him is bore, I think, if I understand him correctly, then Major Swann himself dares to assert. Major Swann is quite satisfied that Samovall came to Monsanto for the purpose of fighting a duel that had been prearranged. And I admit that the two swords found, which have been proving the property of Count Samovall, and which, therefore, he must have brought with him, are a prime FSC proof of such a contention. But if we assume, gentlemen, that I had accepted a challenge from the Count, let me ask you, can you think of any place less likely to have been appointed, or agreed to, by me for the encounter than the garden of the adjutant general's quarters? Secrecy is urged as the reason for the irregularity of the meeting, what secrecy was ensured in such a place, where interruption and discovery might come at any moment. Although the duel was held at midnight, and what secrecy did I observe in my movements, considering that I drove openly to Monsanto in a curicle, which I left standing at the gates in full view of the guard, to await my return. Should I have acted thus if I had been upon such an errand as is alleged, common sense, I think, should straightway equip me on the grounds of the locality alone. And I cannot think that it should even be necessary for me, so as to complete my answer to an accusation entirely without support, in fact, or in logic, to account for my presence at Monsanto, and my movements during the half hour in question. He paused, so far his clear reasoning had held and impressed the court. This he saw plainly written on the faces of all, with one single exception, Sir Terence alone, the one man from whom he might have looked for, the greatest relief, watched him ever malevolently, sardonically, with curling lip. It gave him pause, now, that he stood upon the thresh of falsehood. And because of that inexplicable but obvious hostility, that attitude of expectancy to ensnare and destroy him, Captain Tremaine hesitated to step from the solid ground of reason, upon which he had confidently walked thus far, onto the uncertain bogland of bendacity. I cannot think, he said, that the court should consider it necessary for me to advance in Alibi, to make a statement in proof of my innocence, where I contend that no proof has been offered of my guilt. I think it will be better, sir, in your own interest, so that you may be the more completely cleared, the President replied, and so compelled him to continue. There was, he resumed, then, a certain matter connected with the Commissary General's department, which was of the greatest urgency, yet which under stress of work had been postponed until the morrow. It was concerned with some tints for General Pickton's division at Silorico. It occurred to me that night that it would be better dealt with at once, so that the documents related to it could go forward early on Monday morning to the Commissary General. Accordingly I returned to Monsanto, entered the official quarters, and was engaged upon that task when a cry from the Garden reached my ears. That cry in the dead of night was sufficiently alarming, and I ran out at once to see what might have occasioned it. I found Count Samovall either just dead or just dying, and I had scarcely made the discovery when Mullins the Butler came out of the residential wing as he has testified. That, sirs, is all that I know of the death of Count Samovall, and I will conclude with my solemn affirmation on my honor as a soldier, that I am as innocent of having procured it as I am ignorant of how it came about. I leave myself with confidence in your hands, gentlemen. He ended and resumed his seat. That he had favorably impressed the court was clear. Miss Armitage whispered it to Lady Omoy, exultation quivering in her whisper. He is safe, and she added. He was magnificent. Lady Omoy pressed her hand and returned. Thank God! Oh, thank God! she murmured under her breath. I do, said Miss Armitage. There was silence, broken only by the rustle of the president's notes, as he briefly looked them over as a preliminary to addressing the court. And then, suddenly, grating harshly upon that silence, came the voice of Omoy. Might I suggest, sir Harry, that before we hear you, three of the witnesses be recalled. They are Sergeant Flynn, Private Bates, and Mullins. The president looked round in surprise, and carithers took advantage of the pause to interpose an objection. Is such a course regular, sir Harry? He too had become conscious, at least, of sir Terence's relentless hostility to the accused. The court has been given an opportunity of examining those witnesses. The accused has declined to call any on his own behalf, and the prosecution has already closed the case. Sir Harry considered a moment. He had never been very clear upon matters of procedure, which he looked upon as none of a soldier's real business. Instinctively, in this difficulty, he looked at Lord Wellington as if for guidance. But his lordship's face told him absolutely nothing. The commander-in-chief remaining an impassive spectator. Then, whilst the president coughed and pondered, Major Swan came to the rescue. The court, said the judge advocate, is entitled at any time before the finding to call or recall any witnesses, provided that the prisoner is afforded of opportunity of answering anything further that may be elicited in re-examination of these witnesses. That is the rule, said Sir Terence, and rightly so, for as in the present instance, the prisoner's own statement may make it necessary. The president gave way, thereby renewing Miss Armitage's terrors and shaking at last even the prisoner's calm. Sergeant Flynn was the first of the witnesses recalled at Sir Terence's request, and it was Sir Terence who took up his re-examination. You say, I think, that you were standing in the guardroom doorway when Captain Tremaine passed you at twenty minutes to twelve on the night of the twenty-eighth? Yes, sir, I had turned out upon hearing the curicle draw up, and I had come to see who it was. Naturally. Well now, did you observe which way Captain Tremaine went, whether he went along the passage leading to the garden, or up the stairs to the offices? The sergeant considered for a moment, and Captain Tremaine became conscious for the first time that morning that his pulses were throbbing. At last his dreadful suspense came to an end. No, sir, Captain Tremaine turned the corner and went out of my sight, seeing that I didn't go beyond the guardroom doorway. Sir Terence's lips parted with a snap of impatience. But you must have heard, he insisted. You must have heard his steps, whether they went upstairs or straight on. I am afraid I didn't take notice, sir. But even without taking notice, it seems impossible that you should not have heard the direction of his steps. Steps going upstairs sound quite differently, from steps walking along the level tried to think. The sergeant considered again, but the president interposed. The testiness which Sir Terence had been at no pains to conceal, annoyed Sir Harry. In this insistence offended his sense of fair play. The witness has already said that that didn't take notice. I'm afraid it can serve no good purpose to compel him to strain his memory. The court could hardly rely upon his answer after what he has said already. Very well, said Sir Terence curtly. We will pass on, after the body of Count Sammelville had been removed from the courtyard. Did Mullins, my butler, come to you? Yes, Sir Terence. What was his message? Please tell the court. He brought me a letter with instructions that it was to be forwarded first thing in the morning to the commissary general's office. Did he make any statement beyond? That, when he delivered the letter. The sergeant pondered a moment, only that he had been bringing it when he found Count Sammelville's body. That is all I wish to ask, Sir Harry. Omoy intimated, and looked round at his fellow members of the court, as if to inquire whether they had drawn any inference from the sergeant's statements. Have you any questions to ask the witness, Captain Tremaine? The president inquired. None, Sir, replied the prisoner. Came private base next, and Sir Terence proceeded to question him. You said in your evidence that Captain Tremaine arrived at Monsanto between half past eleven and twenty minutes to twelve. Yes, Sir. You told us, I think, that you would determine this by the fact that you came on duty at eleven o'clock, and that it would be half an hour or a little more after that, when Captain Tremaine arrived. Yes, Sir. That is quite in agreement with the evidence of your sergeant. Now tell the court where you were during the half hour that followed, until you heard the guard being turned out by the sergeant. Pacing in front of the quarters, Sir. Did you notice the windows of the building at all during that time? I can't say that I did, Sir. Why not? Why not? Echoed the private. Yes, why not? Don't repeat my words. How did it happen that you didn't notice the windows? Because they were in darkness, Sir. Oh, Moy's eyes gleamed. All of them? Certainly, Sir. All of them. You are quite certain of that. Oh, quite certain, Sir. If a light had shown from one of them, I couldn't have failed to notice it. That will do. Captain Tremaine began the president. I have no questions for the witness, Sir. Tremaine announced. Sir Harry's face expressed surprise. After the statement he has just made, he exclaimed. And thereupon he again invited the prisoner, in a voice that was as grave as his countenance, to cross-examine the witness. He did more than invite. He seemed almost to plead. But Tremaine, preserving by a miracle his outward calm, for all that inwardly he was filled with despair and chagrin to see what a pit he had dug for himself by his falsehood, declined to ask any questions. Private Bates retired, and Mullins was recalled. A gloom seemed to have settled now upon the court. A moment ago their way had seemed fairly clear to its members, and they had been inwardly congratulating themselves, that they were relieved from the grim necessity of passing sentence upon a brother officer, esteemed by all who knew him. But now a subtle change had crept in. The statement drawn by Sir Terence from the sentry appeared flatly to contradict. Captain Tremaine's own account of his movements on the night in question. You told the court! Omoy addressed the witness Mullins, consulting his notes as he did so, that on the night on which Count Semmelvall met his death, I sent you ten minutes past twelve to take a letter to the Sardin of the Guard. An urgent letter which was to be forwarded to his destination, first thing of the following morning. And it was, in fact, in the course of going upon this errand, that you discovered the prisoner kneeling beside the body of Count Semmelvall. This is correct, is it not? It is, sir. Will you now inform the court to whom the letter was addressed? It was addressed to Commissary General. You read the superscription. I am not sure whether I did that, but I clearly remember, sir, that you told me at the time that it was for the Commissary General. Sir Terence signified that he had no more to ask, and again the President invited the prisoner to question the witness, to receive again the prisoner's unvarying refusal. And now, Omoy rose in his place to announce that he had himself a further statement to make to the court, a statement which he had not conceived necessary, until he had heard the prisoner's account of his movements during the half hour he had spent at Monsanto on the night of the duel. You have heard from Sergeant Flynn and my Butler Mullins that the letter carried for me by the latter to the former on the night of the twenty-eighth was a letter for the Commissary General of an urgent character to be forwarded first thing in the morning. If the prisoner insists upon it, the Commissary General himself may be brought before this court. To confirm my assertion that communication conserved a complaint from headquarters on the subject of the tense supplied to the Third Division, Sir Thomas Pictons at Salorico. The documents concerning that complaint, that is to say the documents upon which we are to presume the prisoner was at work during time half hour in question, were at the time in my possession in my own private study and in another wing of the building entirely. Sir Terence sat down and made a wrestling stir that ran through the court, but was instantly summoned to his feet again by the President. A moment, Sir Terence, the prisoner will no doubt desire to question you on that statement, and he looked with serious eyes at Captain Tremayne. I have no question for Sir Terence, Sir, was his answer. Indeed, what question could he have asked? The falsehoods he had uttered had woven themselves into a rope about his neck, and he stood before his brother officers now in an agony of shame, a man discredited as he believed. But no doubt you will desire the presence of the Commissary General. This was from Colonel Fletcher, his own Colonel and a man who esteemed him, and it was asked in accents that were pleadingly insistent. What purpose could it serve, Sir? Sir Terence's words are partly confirmed by the evidence he has just elicited from Sergeant Flynn and his Butler Mullins, since he spent the night writing a letter to the Commissary. It is not to be doubted that the subject would be such as he states, since from my own knowledge it was the most urgent matter in our hands, and naturally he would not have written without having the documents at his side. To some of the Commissary General would be unnecessarily to waste the time of the court. It follows that I must have been mistaken in this, I admit. But how could you be mistaken? broke the President. I realized your difficulty in crediting it, but there it is, mistaken I was. Very well, Sir. Sir Harry paused and then added. The court will be glad to hear you and answer to the further evidence adduced to refute your statement in your own defense. I have nothing further to say, Sir, was Tremaine's answer. Nothing further, the President seemed aghast. Nothing, Sir. And now Colonel Fletcher leaned forward to exhort him. Captain Tremaine, he said, let me beg you to realize the serious position in which you are placed. I assure you, Sir, that I realize it fully. Do you realize that the statements you have made to account for your movements during the half hour that you were at Monsanto have been disproved? You have heard private bates, evidence, to the effect that at the time that you say you were at work in the offices, those offices remained in darkness, and you have heard Sir Tarrant's statement that the documents upon which you claim to have been at work were at the time in his own hands? Do you realize what inference the court will be compelled to draw from this? The court must draw whatever inference it pleases, answers the captain without heat. Sir Tarrant stirred. Captain Tremaine, said he, I wish to add my own exhortation to that of your Colonel. Your position has become extremely perilous. If you are concealing anything that may extricate you from it, let me enjoin you to take the court frankly and fully into your confidence. The words in themselves were kindly, but through them ran a note of bitterness, of cruel derision, and that was faintly perceptible to Tremaine and to one or two others. Lord Wellington's piercing eyes looked a moment at Omoi, then turned upon the prisoner. Suddenly he spoke, his voice as calm and level as his glance. Captain Tremaine, if the President will permit me to address you in the interests of truth and justice, you bear to my knowledge the reputation of an upright honorable man. You are a man so unaccustomed to falsehood, that when you adventure upon it, as you have obviously just done, your performance is a clumsy one. It's false easily distinguished, that you are concealing something the court must have perceived. If you are not concealing something other than that Count Samavall fell by your hand, let me enjoin you to speak out. If you are shielding anyone, perhaps the real perpetrator of this deed, let me assure you that your honor as a soldier demands, in the interests of truth and justice, that you should not continue silent. Tremaine looked into the stern face of the great soldier. And his glance fell away. He made a little gesture of helplessness, then drew himself stiffly up. I have nothing more to say. Then, Captain Tremaine, said the President, the court will pass to the consideration of its finding. And if you cannot account for the half-hour that you spent at Monsanto while Count Samavall was meeting his death, I am afraid that in view of all the other evidence against you, your position is likely to be one of extremist gravity. For the last time, sir, before I order your removal, let me add my own to the exhortations already addressed to you, that you should speak if still you elect to remain silent. The court, I fear, will be unable to draw any conclusion but one from your attitude. For a long moment, Captain Tremaine stood there in tense, expectant silence. Yet he was not considering. He was waiting. Lady Omoy he knew to be in court behind him. She had heard, even as he had heard, that his fate hung perhaps upon whether Richard Butler's presence were to be betrayed or not. Not for him to break faith with her. Let her decide. And awaiting that decision, he stood there silent, like a man considering, and then, because no woman's voice broke the silence to proclaim at once his innocence, and the alibi that must ensure his acquittal, he spoke at last. I thank you, sir. Indeed, I am very grateful to the court for the consideration it has shown me. I appreciate it deeply, but I have nothing more to say. And then, when all seemed lost, a woman's voice rang out. But I have! It's sharp, almost strident note, acted like an electric discharge upon the court. But no member of the assembly was more deeply stricken than Captain Tremaine. For though the voice was a woman's, yet it was not the voice for which he had been waiting. In his excitement he turned to see Miss Armitage standing there, straight and stiff. Her white face stamped with purpose, and beside her still seated, clutching her arm in an agony of fear, Lady Omoy murmuring for all to hear her. No, no, Sylvia, be silent for God's sake! But Sylvia had risen to speak, and speak she did, and though the words she uttered were such as a virgin might wish to whisper with veiled countenance and averted glance, yet her utterance of them was bold to the point of defiance. I can tell you why Captain Tremaine is silent. I can tell you whom he shields. Oh, God, gasped Lady Omoy, wandering through her anguish how Sylvia could have become possessed of her secret. Miss Armitage, I implore you, cried Tremaine, forgetting where he stood, his voice shaking at last, his hand flung out to silence her. And then the heavy voice of Omoy crashed in. Let her speak! Let us have the truth, the truth! And he smote the table with his clenched fist. And you shall have it, answered Miss Armitage. Captain Tremaine keeps silent to shield a woman, his mistress. Sir Terence sucked in his breath with a whistling sound. Lady Omoy desisted from her attempt to check the speaker, and fell to staring at her in stony astonishment, while Tremaine was too overcome by the same emotion to think of interrupting. The others preserved a watchful, unbroken silence. Captain Tremaine spent that half-hour at Bonsanto in her room. He was with her when he heard the cry that took him to the window. Thence he saw the body in the courtyard, and an alarm went down at once, without considering the consequences to the woman. But because he has considered them, since, he now keeps silence. Sir, sir, Captain Tremaine turned in wild appeal to the President. This is not true. He conceived at once the terrible mistake that Miss Armitage had made. She must have seen him climb down from Lady Omoy's balcony. And she had come to the only possible, horrible conclusion. This lady is mistaken. I am ready to— A moment, sir, you are interrupting. The President rebuked, and then the voice of Omoy, on the note of terrible triumph, sounded again like a trumpet through the long room. Ah, but this is the truth at last. We have it now. Her name, her name. He shouted, Who was this wanton? Miss Armitage's answer was a bludgeon's stroke. To his ferocious exultation, myself, Captain Tremaine, was with me.