perhaps. He is a scoundrel, though a brave soldier."
"I will never fall into his hands alive," Amabel said quietly. "See!" She drew a small dagger from her bosom. "I always carry this, and I will kill myself rather than be taken. Besides, they will never suspect me. I will be a beggar woman, a beggar boy—anything. Let me go! If you do not, I shall take a rope and lower myself over the walls some day, or hang myself in despair. I cannot longer stay cooped up in the castle. I shall stifle!"
"She is right," said the Friar. "Let her go. Why should not she risk her life to save us all? It is no more than she does by remaining here. When the Count first attacked, he might have given quarter. Now he is angered, and if he takes the place he may hang every soul within the castle. Let her go, Lord Edgar, she will do as well—better than any other. If Lady Mortimer consents, I advise it. What say you, Hugh?"
"I say—if Lady Amabel permits me—that she is naught but a madcap. And yet I see nothing better. She will be less likely to be caught, and none can carry the message better. Sore against my will, I say I agree."
Edgar still sat silent, frowning. It was hard for him to consent that a young girl should be
