Ballad of the Highwayman

By Hazel B. West

"Stand and Deliver!"

Kilroy Allen grew up as a normal boy in the small English town of Newbury, but when his father, an officer in the Royalist army of King Charles I is set up and accused of betraying his king to Oliver Cromwell, Kilroy's life will change forever. Witness to his father’s execution at the hands of the people the man loyally served, Kilroy knows he will never rest until his father's betrayer is found. Sixteen years later, Kilroy, now turned highwayman at night and trader Jeremy Glennon by day, is still looking for the man who betrayed his father. Stakes become even higher as he realizes he cannot wed his childhood sweetheart, the lovely and capable Sylvia Davies without first putting his father's case to rest. He sets out to find his hidden enemy once and for all, ready to be free of the events that have haunted his whole life. With good humor, romance and danger at every turn, Ballad of the Highwayman is a revival of the classic adventure story that readers of all ages will enjoy.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Hazel B. West
• Release date: Dec 20, 2012
• ISBN: 9781301481156

Hazel B. West

I spend a good bit of my time writing historical fiction about brave men and women who have graced the pages of history, trying to bring more light to their legacies so readers of all ages will enjoy them.My favorite things/hobbies: Writing obviously, listening to and playing Irish and Scottish folk music, practicing with all eras and types of historical weaponry, GOOD COFFEE, reading of course, dark (dark) chocolate, sketching/painting, hats and boots, collecting little old-fashioned things of all kinds, buying books, and don't forget dressing in period clothing!My favorite kinds of books: Good adventure (sometimes with a little romance), Epic historical series, anything having to do with brotherhood or camaraderie--I'll read anything if it has a strong brotherly bond between two or more guys, time travel novels as long as they are traveling back in time (and not in their own lifetime), good steampunk novels (heavy on the clankers and none of the weird things), military adventure, historical fiction that's either well-written or has unique twists, meaningful or bittersweet war novels, occasionally a good funny book especially ones that are spoofs off old stories or fairy tales, and classics--always the classics!

Book preview

Prologue

This legend began on a dark night,

In the black of London Tower’s cell,

Kilroy Allen’s life changed forever

For good or bad, who can tell?

London, England 1650

Kilroy Allen followed his companion down into the dark reaches of the Tower of London. He was scared, but he would not admit it, even to himself. His father had often told him that an Allen should never be afraid of anything and he would soon be the only Allen left in his family so he would have to hold up their honor to the best of his ability. He tried to keep up with his companion, whose long stride made Kilroy have to jog to keep up with him. He did not want to get lost in the Tower.

The dim glow of the lantern his companion was holding cast eerie shadows over the dripping walls. Kilroy was careful not to touch them, they looked cold and slimy. He shivered and immediately pulled his shoulders strait again. Allens were not afraid.

Roy, his companion whispered to him, turning around. You must be brave. For your father, if nothing else.

I will, Uncle John, Kilroy told him. The man, John Davies, was not really his uncle, but a good friend of his father so he had grown up calling him that.

You are a good lad, Roy, Davies said as he reached back to drawn the boy up next to him. You are a good, smart lad. I know you understand what is going on, so I need not explain it to you.


Aye, I know, Uncle, Kilroy told him. He knew very well what was going on. His father had been betrayed. He was being called a traitor to his king, Charles I. They were saying he was one of the people who had betrayed him to Oliver Cromwell who now ruled England in the stead of the rightful king. Kilroy knew this was not true. His father had fought for Charles with a passion next to the Great Montrose who also had recently ended up on the scaffold. Now his father was condemned to be executed by the same people he had stood beside in battle because they thought he was a traitor. He’s not a traitor, Kilroy said out loud, not really to Davies, but just so he could say it.

No lad, I know that, and so do you, he said sadly. But there’s nothing we can do now.

They got to the cells then. It smelled even worse down there. It was colder and damper as well, if that was even possible. John Davies kept a hand firmly on Kilroy’s shoulder as he led him down the row of cells. Kilroy shuddered again. There were sounds of sick men coughing and others groaning. He could not see into the cells, nor did he want to. He kept his eyes forward until they came to the last cell on the left. A guard stood watch and he looked at John Davies as he came up to him.

Let me in, Davies told him firmly.

The man did not argue. He turned and unlocked the cell. Davies still held onto Kilroy’s shoulder as he pushed him gently inside. Leave us, he said to the guard.

I’ll have to lock you in, the guard told him blandly.

Then so be it, Davies told him and entered the cell behind Kilroy.

Kilroy heard the grating of the key in the lock and then the sound of the guard’s boots on the damp floor as he walked further down the hall. There was no light in the cell except the lantern that Davies still carried but Kilroy’s eyes had adjusted to the dim light and he was able to look around the small cell and see its contents. There were no furnishings but a pile of filthy hay in one corner. In that hay sat a man, his wrists manacled and chained to the wall so that he could not move but a few feet. Kilroy tried to stay brave, but in that second of seeing his father, that man once so powerful, chained to the wall and pitifully thin-looking from his time in the cell, the poor lad’s heart failed him and he ran forward and flung himself into his father’s arms.

Father! he cried, trying to keep the tears from his eyes at least, but not succeeding very well. You must tell them the truth! You must!

I have, Kilroy, he told the lad, holding him tight. I have told them over and over again. My companions know the truth as you do. But the others will not believe it. His voice turned bitter. They do not understand that I would not betray my king for gold, because they know that given the chance they would have done that very thing.

But surely there’s some way... Kilroy whispered, knowing there wasn’t.

No, my lad, his father said. No. But I need your help, dear boy. I will die tomorrow. I will die a traitor to my king and I must not have that. You must stay strong, you must not be afraid and, most of all, you must live, Kilroy! And when you get old enough, which will be soon, for you are already ten years of age, you must find the man who betrayed me and you must show all of England what he did. You must clear my name. For I will not be thought a traitor to my king forever, Kilroy. You must promise me that.

Kilroy nodded against his father’s chest for he still held him close. I will father, I promise.


That is good, Kilroy, his father whispered. I believe you will. Now let me talk to John, lad.


John Davies knelt beside his friend as Kilroy slipped to one side. The two men clasped hands tightly.

Jeremy, John said with pain in his voice as he swept the hat from his head and looked at his companion.

There’s no time for that, my dear John, Kilroy’s father told his friend. We both know what we want to say. You were the brother I never had.


And you, John told him, bowing his head slightly but not before Kilroy saw the single tear slide down his cheek.

Take care of my boy, John, Jeremy Allen told him. Give him my sword and what little money I have. Make sure he grows up to be a gentleman.


I will be sure of that, Jeremy, Davies told him.

Kilroy will be a good son to you, Allen turned to the lad. Will you not, Roy?


Yes, father, Kilroy whispered, unable to muster anything else.

You must go, Allen told them. You must leave London before suspicion falls on you as well.

I don’t want to leave you, father, Kilroy told him and flung himself into his arms again. I want to stay with you.


But you mustn’t, Allen told him gently but firmly. You must be strong. Remember your promise. He pressed his lips to the boy’s brow.

I know, Kilroy told him and bravely stood up, taking a deep breath and thrusting his shoulders back in hopes of at least making himself look braver than he felt.

John, Allen said to his companion and they embraced strongly.

I’ll take care of Kilroy, Jeremy, Davies assured him. And together, we will find who betrayed you, I promise you that.


Now go, Allen told them softly. Go while you still can.

John Davies and Kilroy went to the door and Davies knocked on it, calling for the guard.

Kilroy, Jeremy said and the boy turned to face his father again.

Stand fast, boy, he told him. Stand fast.

The door was unlocked and they went out without saying another word. They walked back through the Tower and out into the waning daylight. They went to their inn where they had procured a room and had some dinner. Kilroy could not eat, nor could he sleep that night. He lay on his bed, looking up at the ceiling and staring out the window into the streets, looking in the direction of Tyburn where his father was to die.

The next morning, they rose, dressed, and with silent agreement went to Tyburn. The whole of London and most of the surrounding country was there. Kilroy and Davies blended into the crowd, staying out of sight of anyone who might recognize them.

Before long a cry went up among the crowd and Kilroy looked over to the left where the cart that carried his father was coming into sight. He resisted the urge to run to him, to release him and fight the men who were doing this to him; he knew it would get him nowhere. He looked up slightly at John Davies and saw his jaw set in anger and restraint. Kilroy could tell he was thinking the same.

Jeremy Allen was led, bound, up the steps of the scaffold. Jeers and cries came from the onlookers who began to throw things at the condemned man who stood there, head held high, not paying them any heed. A lad about Kilroy’s age, standing not too far from him, hurled a rotten tomato and it hit Jeremy Allen on the shoulder. Kilroy lunged toward the boy, but Davies hauled him back to his side.

No, lad, he told him. It will do no good.


Jeremy Allen, the judge read out from the scaffold. You have been found guilty of treason and are thus sentenced to be beheaded for your actions against his late Majesty, King Charles I of England, Scotland and Ireland. He lowered his paper. Do you have any last words?


Jeremy Allen looked down at the onlookers for the first time. I have never, nor would have, betrayed my king, he said, then closed his eyes resignedly as the guards took hold of him and forced him to his knees beside the block. The axeman stood by with his axe and Jeremy Allen held up his hand.

Wait, he said and turned to the axeman. Is that sharp?


The executioner showed Allen the axe and he felt the edge, nodding slightly before he reached into his pocket and pulled out some coins, handing them to the axeman. Very good then.


This brought several laughs from the onlookers. John Davies shook his head. Your father was ever the brave man, Kilroy, he said.

I know, Kilroy told him as he watched his father rest his head on the block. Kilroy watched the axeman lift his weapon and then he turned away, pressing his face into John Davies’ side. He heard the thud of the axe and the cheer of the crowd and then Davies was pulling him away.

We will go now, he told Kilroy as they went to the place they had left their horses.

Kilroy mounted up as if in a trance. He could not really believe it. His father could not really be dead.

It was not a very long ride to Newbury where Davies lived but they did not make it that day for they traveled slowly to save the horses in case they needed to make a quick escape. They stopped that night at an inn where the landlord’s wife saw their state and fixed them hot food. Kilroy ate automatically, not really hungry, but not wanting to offend the kind woman either. They were shown to a room with its own fireplace and Davies built it up high and put a blanket and pillow down in front of it for Kilroy to sleep on. The young lad lay down after undressing and looked into the fire. He and John Davies had spoken very little that day, but Davies turned to him as he sat on the edge of the bed.

Kilroy, he said softly. We are in danger now. I know you know this, but I wish to ask you to make one more promise.


Yes, Uncle John? he asked just as softly.

If anything is to happen to me, Davies told him. Take care of Sylvia.


Kilroy nodded silently. He did not know what to say. His heart was empty and it ached. He held the blankets close for warmth and tried to bid the tears to stay put. That lasted only so long though, for as soon as he knew Davies was asleep, he let them come and buried his face in his pillow so as not to awaken his companion.

He did not know how long he was crying before there was a sound downstairs in the main room of the inn. A banging at the door, and someone shouted from outside. Kilroy could not hear what they said, but the voice was commanding. He sat up, forgetting his grief in his curiosity and then jumped as he heard a sound like the door being kicked in.

This woke Davies and he leapt from the bed, grabbing his sword from beside him.

What’s going on? he asked.

I don’t know, Kilroy told him as more crashing sounds could be heard below, along with the screams of the landlord’s wife.

Stay here, Davies told Kilroy as he went to the door, hauling on his boots.

I’ll go, you’ll need help, Kilroy told him, taking the dagger he carried.

No, boy! Davies told him firmly. You will stay here!

And then he went out the door and down the stairs where Kilroy could hear him shout. What’s this? What mean you by this?!


That’s the man! someone shouted and the ring of steel could be heard then. Capture him, take him alive!

Kilroy would hear no more of this. He leapt up, threw on his boots and grabbed his dagger firmly in his hand along with his cloak. He did not have a sword, but a cloak and dagger, as his father had taught him, could do just as well.

He raced down the stairs to find John Davies facing off with four other men. He had been wounded slightly several times, but he kept at them. Kilroy shouted out and ran to his aide, but before he could reach his friend, someone caught him from behind.

You’re not going anywhere, laddie, the man sneered, shaking him so hard that his dagger fell from his hand and he was left disoriented.

Davies was now on one knee with a sword to his throat. The four men still standing tied him up with his hands behind him.

What about the whelp? the man who held Kilroy asked.

Kilroy looked around for the leader and saw a cloaked man standing off to one side. He fought to see his face in the dim light but could see nothing under the cloak. The man pointed a hand at him, a strange ring in the shape of a snake on his finger.

Kill him, the man whispered.

Run Kilroy! Davies shouted to the young lad.

As the man who held Kilroy fumbled his sword from its sheath while still holding onto him, the lad smashed his head back into the man’s mouth, making him yelp in pain, loosening his grip on Kilroy.

Run! Davies shouted again, kicking his sword quickly toward the lad.

Kilroy grabbed up Davies’ sword before he flew into the kitchen and out the back door, the men not knowing what to do before he was gone.

You fools! You let him escape! shouted one of the other men angrily.

Kilroy did not wait around to hear any more. He flew to the stables, grabbed both his and Davies’ horses and without taking the time to saddle them, leapt on his horse’s back and was off before the men had even gotten out of the inn.

He knew his way well enough. His father had often taken him to London with him. Kilroy did not stop his pace, changing horses every once in a while to keep them fresh. He got to Newbury just before dawn and finally slowed to ride through the streets to the house of Davies, the manor on the outskirts of town. He took his horses to the stable where the startled groom took them to feed and water as Kilroy silently handed them over to him. He clutched the sword he still carried, Davies’ sword, and he went to do the hardest thing he had ever done. He took a deep breath and walked up to the door of the house, knocking slowly.

The door was opened by Davies’ wife. She was pale when she saw him standing there in the cold morning alone.

Kilroy, she spoke softly. Are you all right? Come in.


Kilroy shook his head. No, I can’t. I came to bring you this. He held out the sword he carried and the woman turned even paler and clasped the doorframe for support.

Mother, what’s wrong?

Kilroy looked past her and he saw Davies’ daughter come to the door. She was his own age, and her hair was bright red. Kilroy’s heart ached even more as he saw her standing there.

John? the woman asked him in a whisper.

He’s been taken, Kilroy told her. Like my father. There’s nothing we can do for him now.


Oh! she cried and buried her face in her hands. Davies’ daughter took the sword from Kilroy’s hands and looked at it with contemplation. She turned back to him.

Will you stay with us? she asked.

He shook his head. I cannot, he told her. They will look for me here. I do not want to bring you trouble. I must go now.


He turned then and left the girl to care for her mother. He went back to the barn for his horse and asked the groom to help him saddle it up. Just as he was about to mount, the girl walked into the barn and grabbed his hand.

Kilroy, where will you go? she asked him.

Away for a while, Kilroy told her. But I will be back before long. And I will visit you in that time. I will take care of you, Sylvia.


She looked at him for a moment and then she took one step forward and flung her arms around him. Be safe, Kilroy Allen, she told him. I hope to see you again one day.


You will, he assured her and then turned to mount his horse. He did not feel the lad he had been the day before. No matter his years, he was a man now. He rode out of the barn and back into town. He stopped at the house he had grown up in. It was dark, no one to light a lamp for him. He left his horse outside and went into the house, lighting a candle that stood on one table. He took it up and walked slowly through the house. He went to his own room and packed a bag of all he would need. After that he went to the hearth and lifted the stone his father had shown him. Underneath was a leather sack. He drug it out with some difficulty, for it was heavy, and looked inside. Gold glittered inside the bag and Kilroy quickly closed it again and tucked it into his sack. Then he placed the stone back and stood up. Above the mantle on pegs rested his father’s sword. Kilroy could just barely reach the weapon. He stood on his toes and lifted it down carefully. The belt was wrapped around the sheath and he positioned it over his shoulder as he had seen his father do a thousand times. He drew the sword from its sheath and looked at the initials inscribed into the blade K. A. His grandfather’s initials, and Kilroy’s namesake.

Father, Kilroy whispered as he looked at the blade. You will be righted if it’s the last thing I do.
And then he sheathed the sword and walked out the door to his new life. Not the one he had chosen for himself, but one that had been thrust upon him. He took a deep breath and felt it calm him.

He was Kilroy Allen and he was not afraid.

Chapter One

Now, Kilroy Allen was a Highwayman

He robbed only ladies and lords,

When he shouted ‘Stand and Deliver!’

They would give up their greatest hordes.

1665, Fifteen Years Later

Lord Chudderly nodded off slightly as his coach bumped over the road. He started as they went over a particularly hard bump and hammered on the wall of the coach.

Easy, you idiot! he hollered up to his coachman.

Yes, m’lord, the man apologized with a wince as he tried to ease the horses into a trot.

Lord Chudderly leaned back and rested his head against the back of the cushioned seat as he tried to fall asleep again. If he was going to be traveling at night, he might as well try to get some rest.

Suddenly, he was jerked out of sleep again by the sound of horses whinnying and the coach coming to a quick stop. He hammered on the side of the coach with indignation.

What is it, man? Let’s get on with it! he shouted out to the coachman.

My lord, the driver said. There’s someone up ahead.


Of course there is, Lord Chudderly muttered to himself as he opened his coach door and peeked out, squinting down the dark road. I don’t see... Then he gasped and fell back into the carriage as a rider appeared in the shaft of moonlight that fell over the road in front of them. He came to a stop in front of the coach and leveled a pistol at the driver.

Stand and deliver! he said with a commanding air.

He was a tall man, Lord Chudderly could tell that, even though he sat his horse, and he had long auburn hair that fell to his shoulders in waves. He was wearing a mask over his eyes and a plumed hat that concealed his features. He was dressed in an emerald velvet coat, doeskin breeches and polished black boots that came over his knee. A red jewel sparkled at his throat, nestled in the folds of his cravat. Lord Chudderly knew who this man was, even before his coachman called out to him warningly.

It’s the Emerald Sword, My lord!

I can see that, you idiot! Lord Chudderly snapped, frantically trying to think of what to do. He had no one else; he had forgone his usual cavalcade for the short visit to his sister and now he regretted it sorely. Go, man, go now!

I would not do that, said the highwayman, staying where he was but keeping his pistol trained on the driver. There are two of me as well, but we are armed and you seem not to be. I would stay where you are and do as I say.


I will not! Lord Chudderly said indignantly. I am a lord, Sirrah! I am your better! I will not do as you ask! This is robbery!

No, not robbery, said the highwayman with a slight smile visible under the shadow cast by his hat. Think of it as a donation. To the good people of England.


I am one of those good people as well! Lord Chudderly told him. I am English born and English bred!


Aye, but you are from rich stock, the highwayman told him. I mean to donate to the poor. Surely you would not deny them the luxury of three meals a day?


You will hang! Lord Chudderly told him. I’ll see to it!


The Emerald Sword only laughed and motioned with his pistol for his companion to come forward. I’ve heard that many times before and no one has been able to make good their threats. Yours will be no different. Now come, my friend, and relieve the good lord of his valuables.

Lord Chudderly looked on helplessly as the highwayman’s companion, another young man, also masked, though dressed more commonly than his partner, came forward and made a thorough search of the coach. The accomplice chuckled in amusement as he lifted a secret board under the seat while the lord groaned and pleaded uselessly.

Well, look at that! the highwayman’s partner said as the Emerald Sword came forward to see what he had found. I thought he was just on a social visit! I didn’t expect he would take half of his fortune with him for that!


It’s best for the poor, the highwayman said with pleasure as he took the ample bags of gold from his companion and tucked them into his saddlebag. As soon as the secret compartment had been emptied, the highwayman turned back to the fuming Lord Chudderly.

Now will you be so kind as to hand over all your jewels as well?


Now see here! the lord stuttered but the highwayman’s companion cocked his pistol meaningfully and he shut his mouth and set about taking all the jewels he wore and putting them into the hand of the highwayman who leaned down from his saddle to take them.

Thank you for the donation, the Emerald Sword told him with a grin and a slight bow as he doffed his plumed hat. I hope we will meet again someday.


It will not be a pleasure for you if we do! Lord Chudderly called after him as the highwayman and his companion rode off back down the road a ways before they turned into the woods. The highwayman’s companion turned to him and grinned.

It’s been a good night, Kilroy, he said.

That it has, Jeff. Kilroy watched the woods around them with practice. I’ll meet you at the hideout later, I have something I need to see to. Here, I’ll take one bag and you take the others.

Where are you going? Jeffcoat Mullins asked him, putting the gold into his own saddlebags.

Where do you think, Jeff? Kilroy asked him with his disarming grin. I’ll see you later. He spurred his horse on and went back out of the woods to the road.

He was only riding for a few minutes before he felt a presence and reigned in his mount as another rider moved his horse out onto the road in front of him, a sword flashing in his hand. He was dressed all in black, his brown, curled hair detained slightly under his white plumed hat. A black patch covered his left eye, a memento from a fight long ago. Kilroy gave a sigh as the other man grinned at him and pushed his hat back from his eyes.

Green Sword, he said with a short chuckle. Fancy seeing you out here in my hunting ground.


"It’s Emerald, Shotbolt, Kilroy replied arrogantly. And I have no time for you this night."


"We know each other too well for that, Kilroy," the other man said, not bothering to lower his sword that was hovering threateningly a few inches from Kilroy’s chest.

"I told you not to call me that, Scarcliff, Kilroy told him. I can tell your name as easily as you can mine. Remember that."

Roster Scarcliff laughed. You know I would never tell anyone, Kilroy. I want you for myself. What do you say? Shall it be tonight? We were interrupted last week at the tavern.


Not tonight, Scarcliff, not tonight, Kilroy told him and tried to move his horse on but found the point of the other man’s sword pressed into his chest.

You don’t think I’ll really let you go again, do you, Allen? Scarcliff asked with a laugh. Draw your sword. Let’s try this again, shall we?


Kilroy sighed and slid off his horse, drawing his sword at the same time. He took up a ready stance as his opponent also dismounted with a pleased smile on his face.

All right, Scarcliff, but I will warn you that I am in a hurry, Kilroy told him and then lunged without warning.

Scarcliff was surprised, but he managed to parry Kilroy’s sword as he leapt back and struck out again.

It’s been a while since we have tried to fight, he said. Perhaps we can actually come to some conclusion this time?


I think we’re destined to fight to the end of days, Kilroy told him blandly as he received a small cut on his left arm and he turned back to his adversary with a slight growl. You’ve ruined my coat!

Oh, it can be fixed, Kilroy, don’t fret so! Scarcliff laughed at him. Only a little blood there.


Kilroy was about to lunge at him again when they heard the distant sound of galloping horses. Roster Scarcliff cursed and shoved Kilroy away from him as he reached for his horse again.

What have you done now? Kilroy asked him with some amusement.

That’s none of your business! Scarcliff told him as he swung onto his horse, his sword still drawn. He waved it at Kilroy. This was not the last time our swords will meet, my friend! Not at all!


Oh, I know that, my friend, Kilroy said under his breath as he watched the other highwayman ride off into the woods. He quickly turned and retrieved his horse and mounted up, getting off the road as he heard the horsemen behind him getting closer. He shook his head as he spurred his horse into movement. Now, as long as nothing else distracted him, he would be seeing Sylvia Davies within the next half hour.

Chapter Two

When Kilroy Allen, he went home,

He would stop and he would rein

Under the window of his true love

And for a time he would remain.

Kilroy trotted his horse, guiding it by his knees alone with the reigns looped over the saddlebow. He took some of the gold and jewels he had taken with him and put them into a small leather pouch that he tucked into the breast of his coat. He then put the rest back into his saddlebag and took up his reins again, urging his horse into a canter, eager to get to his destination.

Before long, he came to the house and went around to the back, reining his horse in under a window. He looked up and saw the single solitary candle on the sill, its warm light a beacon for his coming. Kilroy took his feet from the stirrups and pulled his legs up to kneel on the back of the horse so he could see into the window. He whistled the first bar of a tune and in a few seconds, the window was opened and a beautiful figure appeared in front of him. Her hair was a mass of bright red curls, her emerald eyes glowing in the light from the candle. She wore a dark cloak over her nightdress against the chill of the February night and she looked down at Kilroy with a lovely smile on her face.

Roy, she said as he reached up to take her hand in his, pressing it to his lips.

Sylvia, he replied as he smiled back up at her.

Won’t you come in? she asked him. It’s cold. I’ll have Betsy make you something warm to drink.


I’m afraid I cannot, my dear, he told her regrettably. I endanger you the longer I’m here. It is not safe, these nightly trips I make to your window.


It’s the only time, though, Sylvia told him with a sigh. Did you have any luck tonight?

I did, he told her with his roguish smile as he reached into his coat and pulled out the small pouch. Donated kindly by Lord Chudderly, my lady.


She stifled a giggle as she took the pouch from him. Oh, that old windbag? I was wondering when you would find him alone on the road at night, Roy.

It was only a matter of time, he said, and winced as she touched his arm where he had received the small wound from Roster Scarcliff.

Roy, you’re hurt, and look at your coat! Sylvia said in concern as she held the candle closer to see the extent of the damage.

The wound pains me none, it is but a scratch, Kilroy assured her. But I fear he has cut a fine hole into the jacket you made me.


It’s nothing I cannot fix, Sylvia told him with a gentle smile. Come in and I will.


Well, all right, Kilroy said finally. But only for a few minutes.


She took his hand as he climbed nimbly through the window, making no noise but a slight jingle of his spurs