But they must be men of intelligence and vigour, of well-known character.
The critical moment in Maitre Ranulph's life came now.

Here he was penned up in a little island, chained to a criminal having the fame of a martyr.

It was not to be borne.

Why not leave it all behind?
Why not let his father shift for himself, abide his own fate?
Why not leave him the home, what money he had laid by, and go-go-go where he could forget, go where he could breathe.

Surely self-preservation, that was the first law; surely no known code of human practice called upon him to share the daily crimes of any living soul--it was a daily repetition of his crime for this traitor to carry on the atrocious lie of patriotism.
He would go.