"And will soldiers live for ages, too?" continued Sir Ronald.

"Those who are killed my elixir is impotent to bring back again to
life. The dead are beyond all aid."

"And the wounded?" persisted the knight.

"I can but stave off disease, Ronald; but what a glorious achievement
have I accomplished then! Methinks I see the glory now, and when I am
in my grave, pilgrims shall come and worship at my shrine as they
have done these centuries at the altar of St. Thomas the Martyr at
Canterbury. What glory, what glory!" and in the exuberance of his
delight, Edmund Wynne gleefully rubbed his hands together.

"I am forgetting my errand, though," exclaimed the deputy-governor, "I
have a visitor for thee."

Edmund quailed. He was not in the habit of receiving visitors, for he
had few friends and many enemies, therefore the announcement gave him
very little pleasure.

"For me?" he said, in a tone of unmistakable surprise, and equally
unmistakable displeasure.

"Aye, for thee," Sir Ronald replied. "Shall I bring him to you?"

"Bring him down here?" screamed Edmund, aghast at the very idea. "No,
never."