“I have no more time to waste over the telephone;” and my friend put on his overcoat. “You must go back to your cell, Robert; but Mr. Hardy is a prompt man, and before morning we shall have word of some kind from Petersburg. Good-night, boy;” and as he shook my hand he winked.
“General von Eckerstein is going, Colonel,” said the governor through the telephone. “The Colonel wishes to know where you are going, General.”
“Tell him to mind to his own business and I’ll mind mine,” was the angry reply, and it was repeated over the wire.
The General walked to the door and opened it.
“The Colonel urgently begs you to speak with him, General.”
“Am I to wait for that letter to be written or not, sir?” His face might have been a stone mask in its sternness.
“Please wait a moment, General. As a personal favour to me. I really don’t know what to do.”
“I have no more time to waste, I say. I demand a reply now.”
“Mr. Anstruther, will you ask the General? It may be of the highest moment to you.”
A very different sort of governor this from the one who had lectured me so sternly in my cell, and then glibly sentenced me to the knout.