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"That is a Bad Man. A very, very Wicked Man. The worst man, but one, that ever lived."

For the sole concession that Miss Stuart was wont to make in Oliver Cromwell's favour was that he ranked second to Judas Iscariot ("second but bracketed with").

"What did he do?" enquired Anthony, eyeing the unattractive wart-infested face of the Great Protector.

"He... killed... his... King," whispered Miss Stuart with bated breath; and then sat silent, considering the portrait with a fierce glare of concentrated hate.

"How?" enquired Anthony, himself a killer of noisy giants, blow-lamp mouthed dragons, deceitful wolves, ever-hungry bears and such undesirable what-nots.

"He... cut... his... head... off," whispered Miss Stuart.

"Fighting?"

"No. Oh, no. The poor King was his prisoner. He killed the poor defenceless King, although he was so kind, so good and gentle.

"And brave," added Miss Stuart, divining that the attributes that she had mentioned were not perhaps those that appealed first and most highly to Anthony Calderton.