His fellow-prisoners had noticed his agitated manner and hasty departure after receiving the letter, and when he did not return to the barracks for some hours, they communicated with the officer of the guard, who lost no time in informing the Commandant. Major Kelly fancied Tournier might be with his friend at the Manor Farm, but, not being quite easy about it, he went there himself.
“Oh,” said Cosin, “I’ll be bound he is at his favourite haunt. The prison is not the place to read love-letters in. He always goes there when he wants to be alone. Shall we go and see, major?”
There, as has been said, they found him. The first impression was that he was dead. And no wonder: he looked so like it. But closer examination shewed that life was still in him. As quickly as possible they obtained a light cart, and tenderly placed the body in it—Cosin supporting the head—and gently drove away.
“I wish you would allow me to take him to
my house,” said Cosin: “it is nearer than the barracks; and by the look of the poor, dear fellow, he will not bear much shaking, and—I should so like to have him.”
The major thought a minute, and said, “Perhaps you are right. It is nearer and quieter than the barracks. I can authorise you to take charge of him, though Draper may be jealous of you.”
So they brought him to the Manor House, and carried him upstairs with utmost care, and placed him in Cosin’s own room, for none other was ready, and put him to bed.
He was still unconscious, and no restoratives they applied to the best of their ability had any effect. Would he ever wake up again?
Meanwhile, a doctor was sent for post-haste. Those at the barracks were all English, of whom Mr. Vise, of Stilton, was chief; and he, happening to be there at the time, instantly drove to the Manor House.
“Brain fever,” said the doctor, after careful