General Tromp shifted nervously from one foot to the other, his hands twitching convulsively. Suddenly one hand leaped to his side.
“I wouldn’t do that,” said Hal quietly, and turning General Tromp saw the lad’s revolver pointed squarely at him, held in a steady hand.
His hand dropped to his side again, and for some moments the traitor stood in silence. Then, suddenly, his shaking stopped. He raised his eyes and looked his commander straight in the eyes.
“It shall be as you say, sir,” he said calmly. “You are right. I am a traitor. I would not have been, but—but—well that makes no difference now. You shall see, sir, that I am no coward. I am not afraid to die. Neither need you fear that I shall not do as you command. Thus shall I atone for my sin.”
“I do not fear you will disobey,” said the general softly.
“I am sorry, sir,” continued General Tromp, “sorry because of you, more so than because of France. I know that it is useless to ask your forgiveness.”
“For your treachery toward me,” said General Joffre softly, “I forgive you freely; but for your treachery to France I cannot.”
The traitor once more looked the general straight in the eyes, and slowly his heels came together and his hand came to a salute.
“Good-by, sir,” he said quietly; then turned on his heel and walked away, his carriage erect, and without a tremor.