What would he not have given to rub his eyes and find it all a dream?
He turned away; a cloud scudded across the moon; here and yonder in the dim town cocks crowed with a lonesome, desultory effect.
Father Beret plucked up the rapier that he had wrenched from Hamilton's hand.

It suggested something.
"Hold!" he called out, "give me the scabbard of this sword." Hamilton, who was striding vigorously in the direction of the fort, turned about as the priest hastened to him.
"Give me the scabbard of this rapier; I want it.

Take it off." The command was not gently voiced.

A hoarse, half-whisper winged every word with an imperious threat.
Hamilton obeyed.

His hands were not firm; his fingers fumbled nervously; but he hurried, and Father Beret soon had the rapier sheathed and secured at his belt beside its mate.
A good and true priest is a burden-bearer.