"Aye - for having harboured me. That whelp of Montgomery's
Foot suspects you."

"Suspects? Am I a man of straw to be overset by a breath of
suspicion?"

"There is your lieutenant, Kenneth Stewart."

"Who has been a party to your escape, and whose only course is
therefore silence, lest he set a noose about his own neck.
Come, Harry," he added, briskly, changing his manner, "the
night wears on, and we have your safety to think of."

Hogan rose with a sigh.

"Give me a horse," said he, "and by God's grace tomorrow shall
find me in Cromwell's camp. Heaven prosper and reward you,
Cris."

"We must find you clothes more fitting than these - a coat more
staid and better attuned to the Puritan part you are to play."

"Where have you such a coat?"

"My lieutenant has. He affects the godly black, from a habit
taken in that Presbyterian Scotland of his."

"But I am twice his bulk!"