He did not move or glance aside even when Archibald commanded the men to set me down; nor when he passed in at the open door and we waited; nor again when he stepped out on the balcony and called him by name. The corpse stared down still. For it was a corpse, with a woman's bodkin-dagger driven tight home between the shoulder-blades.
And so, by an unknown sister's hand, Isabel's wrongs had earthly vengeance.
CHAPTER XXIV.
I EXCHANGE THE LAUREL FOR THE OLIVE.
Thus, in hospital in Ciudad Rodrigo, ended my first campaign; and here in a few words may end my story. The surgeons, having their hands full, and detecting no opportunities of credit in a small bugler with a splintered ankle, sent me down to Belem, splinters and splints and all, to recover: and at Belem hospital, just as the surgeons were beginning to congratulate themselves that, although never likely to be fit again for active service, I might in time make a fairly active hospital orderly, the splinters began to work through the flesh; and for two months I lay on my back in bed and suffered more pain than has been packed into the rest of my life.
The curious part of it was that, having extracted the final splinter, they promptly invalided me home. From the day I limped on board the Cumberland transport in the Tagus, leaning on two crutches, I began to mend: and within twelve months—as may hereafter be recounted—I was back again, hale and hearty, marching with no perceptible limp, on the soil of Spain.
But I must not, after all, conclude in this summary fashion. And why? Because scarcely had I set foot in the Cumberland when a voice from somewhere amidships exclaimed:
"My blessed Parliament!"
I looked up and found myself face to face with—Ben Jope!