"
"You wouldn't do such an unbrotherly act, Phil! I know you wouldn't.
You've too good a heart. Think of your wife, my sister--"
"Ay, the traitress!"
"Then think of my father; think of the mouth that fed you--I mean the
hand that fed you! You'll let me go, Phil--sure you'll let me go.
Remember how we played together when we were boys. I'll give you the
names of the other traitors. I'm not so much to blame: I was lured
into this--lured by your wife--so help me God, I was--and you're
responsible for her, you know. _You_ ought to be the last man in the
world--"
Philip's mood had changed at thought of Ned's father; the old man's
pride of the name, his secret and perilous devotion to the rebel
cause: he deserved better of that cause than that his son should die
branded as a traitor to it; and better of Phil than that by his hand
that son should be slain.
"How can you let me have the names without loss of time, if I let you
go, on condition of your giving our army a wide berth the rest of your
days?" Philip asked, turning the captive over upon his back.
"I can do it in a minute, I swear," cried Ned. "Will you let me go if
I do?"
"If I'm convinced they're the right names and all the names; but if
so, and I let you go, remember I'll see you hanged if you ever show
your face in our army again."
"Rest easy on that. I take you at your word. The names are all writ
down in my pocketbook, with the share of money each man was to get.
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