"To table," he said laconically.

But the boy, comprehending what was required of him, drew back
at sight of those cards as one might shrink from a thing
unclean.

"Never!" he began. "I'll not defile - "

"To table, fool!" thundered Crispin, with a vehemence few men
could have withstood. "Is this a time for Presbyterian
scruples? To table, and help a me play this game, or, by the
living God, I'll - " Without completing his threat he leaned
forward until Kenneth felt his hot, wine-laden breath upon his
cheek. Cowed by his words, his gesture, and above all, his
glance, the lad drew up a chair, mumbling in explanation -
intended as an excuse to himself for his weakness - that he
submitted since a man's life was at stake.

Opposite him Galliard resumed his seat with a mocking smile
that made him wince. Taking up the cards, he flung a portion
of them to the boy, whilst those he retained he spread fanwise
in his hand as if about to play. Silently Kenneth copied his
actions.

Nearer and louder grew the sounds of the approach, lights
flashed before the window, and the two men, feigning to play,
sat on and waited.

"Have a care, Master Stewart," growled Crispin sourly, then in