"Will you look at this, sir? Tell me if I understand it rightly."
Colonel Baron complied, then passed the papers on to his wife and Jack, while he grasped Ivor's hand.
"I congratulate you with all my heart," he said. "Nothing could have given me greater delight. For your sake—not for ours."
"But to leave you here still!"
"Don't think of that. Your duty is to go."
"What are the conditions? I can't read to-day."
"Not to bear arms against France for twelve months from the date of your reaching England, unless an exchange is arranged sooner. It will not be, of course. There is no exchange for détenus. That means that for one year you will still be a prisoner on parole, only in England. It will take you some months to grow strong enough for fighting."
"I am strong already," was the answer, and even in those few minutes it was remarkable how his face had changed, gaining a healthier tint, and losing its languor, while the very hollows seemed to be filling up. "One year from the day I arrive in England! Then I must be off at once—not lose a day."
"Next week," suggested Jack.
"To-morrow. But what can have induced the Emperor to free me? Why me, more than any other détenu?"