'Mas'r Dick.'
The door had opened an inch. His heart beat wildly, and he crouched close to the crevice.
'Mathews!' he gasped.
'Sh-sh.' An admonishing hand touched him. 'Come close, sir. This is a dirty business, Mas'r Dick. If you hear me cough noticeable, get back and pretend like you're asleep.'
'But—but, in God's name, what are you doing there?'
'I'm a-guardin' you, sir. Sh-sh.'
The old groom moved a couple of paces away from the door, humming a song about a coachman who loved a turnkey's daughter. Almost mad with excitement, Dick stood in the darkness of the hut with his outstretched arms shaking and quivering. He was afraid he would shout, and bit his finger-nails to help to repress the wild desire.
'Mas'r Dick.'
In an instant he was crouching again by the door.
'There'll be a orficer's inspection,' whispered the sentry, 'a minute or two arter midnight. When that there little ceremony has took place, you and me is goin' for a walk.'