But it was no sweethearting. After some minutes, a small door in the large stable gate was opened and a man looked out. I could see all that passed by the light of a lamp over the gates. The two whispered together a moment; and then the man from the house came out, turned the key in the lock, and put it in his pocket.
They both crossed the road toward where I stood, and I pressed yet closer against the wall and kept my hand on Chris’s head lest by a sound he should betray our presence. They did not enter the portico, but stood in the shadow of the tree where I had first concealed myself.
“This will do,” I heard one of them say; and then strain my ears as I would I could not catch any other than isolated words. But they were enough to set me on fire. “Army,” “Arrest,” “Three hours,” “Yes, two o’clock—” this was louder and in an impatient tone. After that there was a chink of money passing; and then silence. It lasted so long that, unable to contain myself, I peered out cautiously and looked at them.
The man who had come from the house was counting a quantity of paper money, and trying to read the value of each bill by the flicker of the lamp across the road. It was a tedious business; and his companion whispered something to him and they both walked away along the street.
My first inclination was to follow them at once and force an explanation; but I checked the impulse. I resolved to wait for the return of the servant. He was sure to come back, if I read the thing aright. I could deal with him alone much more satisfactorily.
I took Chris across to the stable gates and making him understand that he was on guard and must let no one pass in, I returned to my hiding-place.
The minutes were leaden as I stood waiting. The man was so long away that I began to fear I had blundered and to regret I had not acted on the impulse to follow the two.
But he came at length hurrying from the opposite direction; and he glanced up at the house windows as he passed, with a gesture of uneasiness. When he reached the stable gates, Chris received him with a low growl, and he started back in some dismay at the most unexpected interruption.
He was trying to pacify the dog with a little coaxing when I crossed to him and, assuming a tone of authority, asked, at a venture; “You have seen the sergeant? Why have you been so long?”
He was obviously in much perplexity and some fear, and glanced from Chris to me. The good dog looked formidable enough to have frightened a braver man.