And so it had been; and far worse it probably would have been but for Mr. Billings's merciful interference.
Expecting to find his victim in a condition bordering upon the abject and ready to beg for mercy at any sacrifice of pluck or pride, Buxton had gone to the guard-house soon after retreat and told the sergeant that he desired to see O'Grady, if the man was fit to come out.
What was his surprise when the soldier stepped forth in his trimmest undress uniform, erect and steady, and stood unflinchingly before him!—a day's rest and quiet, a warm bath, wholesome and palatable food, careful nursing, and the kind treatment he had received having brought him round with a sudden turn that he himself could hardly understand.
"How is this?" thundered Buxton. "I ordered you kept in the dark cell."
"The officer of the day ordered him released, sir," said the sergeant of the guard.
And Buxton, choking with rage, stormed into the mess-room, where the younger officers were at dinner, and, regardless of the time, place, or surroundings, opened at once upon his subaltern:
"Mr. Billings, by whose authority did you release O'Grady from the dark cell?"
Mr. Billings calmly applied his napkin to his moustache, and then as calmly replied, "By my own, Captain Buxton."
"By ——! sir, you exceeded your authority."
"Not at all, captain; on the contrary, you exceeded yours."