His voice died in his throat.
“Unless what?” asked the officer, turning on him quickly. “What is it you fear?”
“Unless she was recognized!” cried Stewart, hoarsely.
But the other shook his head.
“If she had been recognized—which is most improbable—she would not have been taken prisoner at all. She would have been shot where she lay.”
And then again that dark stain upon the floor flashed before Stewart’s eyes. Perhaps that had really happened. Perhaps that blood was hers!
“It is the suspense!” he groaned. “The damnable suspense!”
“I know,” said the other, gently. “It is always the missing who cause the deepest anguish. One can only wait and hope and pray! That is all that you can do—that and one other thing.”
“What other thing?” Stewart demanded.
“She intrusted you with a mission, did she not?” asked the little captain, gently. “Living or dead, she would be glad to know that you fulfilled it, for it was very dear to her. You still have the letters?”