Sir Francis shrugged like any Frenchman. "All in good time, my dear
Captain. There were reasons why I did not care to knot the rope myself.
Besides, we had a little disagreement years agone across the water;
'twas about a woman--oh, she was no mistress of his, I do assure
you!"--this to quench my jester's laugh incredulous. "He was keen upon
me for satisfaction in this old quarrel, and I gave it him, thinking
he'd hang the easier for a little blooding first."

Here the factor-lawyer cut in anxiously. "But you will hang him, Sir
Francis? You've promised that, you know."

I did not hate my enemy the more because he turned a shoulder to this
little bloodhound and quite ignored the interruption.

"So we fought it out one morning in Mr. Stair's wood-field, and he had
what he came for. Not to give him a chance to escape, we brought him
here, and as soon as he is fit to ride I'll send him to the colonel.
Tarleton will give him a short shrift, I promise you, and then"--this
to the master of Appleby Hundred--"then your title will be well quieted,
Mr. Stair."

At this the weather-beaten captain roared again and smote the table till
the bottles reeled.

"I say, Sir Frank, that's good--damned good! So you have him crimped
here in his own house, stuffing him like a penned capon before you wring
his neck. Ah! ha! ha! But 'tis to be hoped you have his legs well tied.
If he be any son of my old mad-bull Roger Ireton, you'll hardly hang him
peacefully like a trussed fowl before the fire."