friends," he cried in a hoarse and broken voice, "my soldier-men!
Come, let's make an end. Bassett, the rope is in the corner. There's a
noose to it. The beam across the window will serve;" and Bassett rose
to obey.

But Mitchelbourne gave them no time. His fears had altogether vanished
before his indignation at the stupidity of these officers. He was
boiling with anger at the thought that he must lose his life in this
futile ignominious way for the crime of another man, who was not even
his friend, and who besides was already dead. There was just one
chance to escape, it seemed to him. And even as Bassett stooped to
lift the coil of rope in the corner he took it.

"So that's the way of it," he cried stepping forward. "I am to be hung
up to a beam till I kick to death, am I? I am to be buried decently in
that stagnant pool, am I? And you are to be miles away before sunrise,
and no one the wiser! No, Major Chantrell, I am not come to the end of
my lane," and before either of the three could guess what he was at,
he had snatched up the pistol from the table and dashed the lamp into
a thousand fragments.

The flame shot up blue and high, and then came darkness.

Mitchelbourne jumped lightly back from his position to the centre of
the room. The men he had to deal with were men who would follow their
instincts. They would feel along the walls; of so much he could be
certain. He heard the coil of rope drop down in a corner to his left;
so that he knew where Captain Bassett was. He heard a chair upset in
front of him, and a man staggered against his chest. Mitchelbourne had
the pistol still in his hand and struck hard, and the man dropped with