“If he lived they would have sent him to Cartagena,—­to the Holy Office!” cried the other.  “One ship—­a scoundrel crew....  Mortimer, Mortimer, some other ordeal than that!”

Ferne raised his eyes.  “I call it by no such fine name,” he said.  “I but know that if he yet lives, then he and what other Englishmen are left alive do cry out for deliverance, looking towards the sea, thinking, ‘Where is now a friend?’” He left the table and came near to Arden.  “’Twas a kindly impulse sent you here, old comrade of mine; but now will you go?  The dead and I hold Ferne House of nights.  To-morrow come again and say good-by.”

“I will sail with you to the Indies, Mortimer,” said the visitor.

There was silence in the room; then, “No, no,” answered Ferne, in a strange voice.  “No, no.”

Arden persisted, speaking rapidly, carrying it off with sufficient lightness.  “He was just home from Ireland and stood in need of the sun.  His cousin wanted him not; John Nevil was in the north and had helpers enough.  The slaying of Spaniards was at once good service and good sport.  Best take him along for old time’s sake.  Indeed, he asked no better than to go—­” On and on he talked, until, looking up, his speech was cut short by the aspect of the man before him.

If in every generation the house of Ferne, father and son, could wear a dark face when occasion warranted, certainly in this moment that of the latest of his race was dark indeed.  “And at the first pinch be betrayed.  Awake, or here, or there, in the torments of Spain or in another world!  Awake and curse me by all your gods!  Speak not to me—­I am not hungry for a friend!  I have no faith to pledge against your trust!  The rabble which await me upon my ship, I have bought them with my gold, and they know me, who I am.  For Robin—­God help the boy!  He had a fever, and he would not cease his cries until I sware not to part from him.  Robin, Robin!  Master Arden will take horse!  Go, Arden, go! or as God lives I will strike you where you stand.  No,—­no hand-touching!  Can you not see that you heat the iron past all bearing?  A moment since and I could have sworn I saw behind you Henry Sedley!  Go, go!”

He sank upon the settle beneath the window, and buried his head in his arms.  For a long minute Arden stood with a drawn face, then turning, left the house and left the place, for the knowledge was borne in upon him that here and now friendship could give no aid.  When, half an hour later, he arrived at the Blue Swan in the neighboring town and called for aqua-vitae, mine host, jolly and round and given over to facetiousness, swore that to look so white and bewitched-like the gentleman must have gathered mandrakes from Ferne church-yard, or have dined with the traitor knight himself.