"Go back, I command you, Malise MacKim," he said, "go back instantly.
I have made up my mind. I will not escape from the Castle of Edinburgh
this night."

But Malise answered not a word, only pulled more desperately on the
rope, till the sound of his labouring breath and grasping palms could
be heard from side to side of the chamber.

The Earl leaned further out.

"Malise," he said, calm and clear, "you see this knife. I would not
have your blood on my hands. You have been a good and faithful servant
to our house. But, by the oath of a Douglas, if you come one foot
farther, I will cut the rope and you shall be dashed in pieces
beneath."

The master armourer stopped--not with any fear of death upon him, but
lest a stroke of his master's dirk should destroy their well-arranged
mode of escape.

"O Earl William, my dear lord, hear me," he said in a gasping voice,
still hanging perilously between earth and heaven. "If I have indeed
been a faithful servant, I beseech you come with me--for the sake of
the house of Douglas and of your mother, a widow and alone."

"Go down, Malise MacKim," said the Earl, more gently; "I will speak
with you only at the rope's foot."

So very unwillingly Malise went back.