Sir Rowland flushed under that mocking glance and caustic tone. "But
he is drunk," he repeated feebly.

"I think,"" said Trenchard, "that he is hearing something that will
make him sober."

Lord Gervase took the lad by the shoulder, and shook him impatiently.
"Well ?" quoth he. "Have you nothing to say? You did a deal of prating
just now. I make no doubt but that even at this late hour if you were
to make apology..."

"It would be idle," came Wilding's icy voice to quench the gleam of hope
kindling anew in Richard's breast. The lad saw that he was lost, and he
is a poor thing, indeed, who cannot face the worst once that worst is
shown to be irrevocable. He rose with some semblance of dignity.

"It is as I would wish," said he, but his livid face and staring eyes
belied the valour of his words. He cleared his huskiness from his
throat. "Sir Rowland," said he, "will you act for me?"

"Not I!" cried Blake with an oath. "I'll be no party to the butchery
of a boy unfledged."

"Unfledged?" echoed Trenchard. "Body o' me! 'Tis a matter Wilding
will amend to-morrow. He'll fledge him, never fear. He'll wing him
on his flight to heaven."

Of set purpose did Trenchard add this fuel to the blazing fire. It was
no part of his views that this encounter should be avoided. If Richard
Westmacott were allowed to live after what had passed, there were too