tag="{http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml}a">PART III

MAXWELL'S STORY

• XXVI. I Close One Account and Open Another
• XXVII. I Find a Key to my Dilemma
• XXVIII. I Make a False Move
• XXIX. I Put my Fortune to the Touch

Epilogue

ILLUSTRATIONS

• “'A REBEL WENCH, LADS, AND MUST SEE HER LOVER CLOSE!'”
• “'THAT IS A LIE!' SHE SAID, CALMLY, RAISING HER FACE”
• “'WHY DO YOU SLEEP IN YOUR CLOTHES?'”
• “'OH, YOUR GRACE, YOUR GRACE, HE IS ALL I HAVE LEFT IN THE WORLD!'”
• “HE ORDERED HIS MEN TO GIVE WAY IN A VOICE THAT SUGGESTED THE CLAP OF A PRISON DOOR”
• “HOW I MADE THEM LAUGH OVER MY APPEARANCE!”
• “SHE STOOD ERECT, HER FACE WHITE WITH EMOTION”
• “'M. LE LIEUTENANT, YOU HAVE MY SINCEREST SYMPATHY!'”
• “I CRAWLED OUT BRUISED, BUT OTHERWISE UNHURT”
• “'CHEVALIER, I KNOW YOU NOW'”
• “AND LAID THEM GENTLY ON THE STREAM”
• “THE PRIEST RECITED THE HOLY OFFICE OF THE MASS”
• “'THERE IS LITTLE I WOULD NOT DO TO PLEASE LE PÈRE JEAN'”
• “'THESE LETTERS CHANGE A DUTY INTO A PLEASURE'”
• “THE TWO MEN STOOD FACING EACH OTHER IN SILENCE”
• “A STRAIGHT PILLAR OF FIRE WENT LEAPING UP INTO THE NIGHT”
• “HE CARRIED ME THROUGH MUD AND WATER, AND SET ME IN HIS SHALLOP”
• “AND, BOWING LOW, ANSWERED HER LIVELY GREETING”
• “TANTUM ERGO SACRAMENTUM VENEREMUR CERNUI”
• “WE MADE A SAD LITTLE PROCESSION”
• “'KEEP UP, MY LAD; YOU ARE AMONG FRIENDS!'”
• “WITH HAT IN HAND CAME SPURRING ON”
• “'HE THAT DWELLETH IN THE SECRET PLACE OF THE MOST HIGH'”
• “SHE SHORTENED UP STRAPS AND ADJUSTED BUCKLES”
• “'CALL OFF YOUR MEN, CAPTAIN NAIRN!'”
• “HE THREW UP HIS HANDS WITH A WEAK CRY AND COVERED HIS FACE”
• “LIFTING HIS LANTHORN, HE HELD IT SO THAT THE LIGHT SHONE FULL UPON HER”
• “'I TAKE IT FOR GRANTED YOU ARE A NON-COMBATANT'”
• “'THE SPAN O' LIFE'S NAE LANG ENEUGH,' ETC.”

Part I

MAXWELL'S STORY

“Better the world should know you at a sinner than God as a hypocrite.”—Old Proverb.

THE SPAN O' LIFE

CHAPTER I

“AFTER HIGH FLOODS COME LOW EBBS”

Every one knows of my connection with the ill-starred Rebellion of Prince Charles, and for this it was that I found myself, a few months after the disaster of Culloden, lying close in an obscure lodging in Greek Street, Soho, London.

Surely a rash proceeding, you may say, this adventuring into the lion's den! But such has not been my experience: in an escalado, he who hugs closest the enemy's wall has often a better chance than he who