He opened them quickly, and glancing his eye across the contents, crushed the paper in his hand. Just as he did so, a spot of blood upon the envelope attracted his attention.
“How’s this,—are you wounded?”
“No, sir; my horse was killed—”
“Very well, sir; join your brigade. But stay, I shall have orders for you. Well, Waters, what news?”
This question was addressed to an officer in a staff uniform, who entered at the moment, followed by the short and bulky figure of a monk, his shaven crown and large cassock strongly contrasting with the gorgeous glitter of the costumes around him.
“I say, who have we here?”
“The Prior of Amarante, sir,” replied Waters, “who has just come over. We have already, by his aid, secured three large barges—”
“Let the artillery take up position in the convent at once,” said Sir Arthur, interrupting. “The boats will be brought round to the small creek beneath the orchard. You, sir,” turning to me, “will convey to General Murray—but you appear weak. You, Gordon, will desire Murray to effect a crossing at Avintas with the Germans and the 14th. Sherbroke’s division will occupy the Villa Nuova. What number of men can that seminary take?”
“From three to four hundred, sir. The padre mentions that all the vigilance of the enemy is limited to the river below the town.”
“I perceive it,” was the short reply of Sir Arthur, as placing his hands carelessly behind his back, he walked towards the window, and looked out upon the river.