would answer nothing.

"What speech hath ever been between my son and myself," he said, "is
between my son and myself only." A start of anger travelled round the
circle of the court-martial. Young Enderby watched his father curiously
and sullenly.

"Duty to country comes before all private feeling," said Cromwell. "I
command you, sir, on peril of a charge of treason against yourself, to
answer the question of the Court. 'If thy right hand offend thee, cut it
off; if thy foot cause thee to stumble, heave it to the shambles. The
pernicious branch of the just tree shall be cloven and cast into the
brush-heap.' You are an officer of this commonwealth, sir?" asked
Cromwell, again.

"By your Highness's permission," he replied.

"Did your son strike you upon the face with the flat of his sword upon
the night recorded in this charge against him?"

"What acts have passed between my son and myself are between my son and
myself only," replied Enderby, steadily. He did not look at his son, but
presently the tears rolled down his cheeks, so that more than one of his
judges who had sons of their own were themselves moved. But they took
their cue from the Protector, and made no motion towards the old man's
advantage. Once more Cromwell essayed to get Enderby's testimony, but, "I
will not give witness against my son," was his constant and dogged reply.
At last Cromwell rose in anger.

"We will have justice in this realm of England," said he, "though it turn