"Three will be sufficient," he said. "General Fielding, a quarter of a century ago you heard me commit perjury against my brother; and your father, Captain Luxton, pronounced the sentence. It is for this reason that I have asked you to witness my confession. You have already read it."
He took up his pen and signed the roll of paper. General Fielding and Captain Luxton immediately followed suit, and the former took possession of the document.
"General Fielding," my uncle continued, with a voice that commenced to shake a little, "I am already your debtor, inasmuch as you permit me to retain my commission until after to-morrow's fight. But I ask you still another favour."
The General bowed, and there was a decided gleam of compassion in his stern face.
"Let this matter be cleared up immediately after to-morrow's fight. If my brother be found alive, which God grant that he may, let my confession be read in open court-martial, however informal, at once," he pleaded.
"It shall be done. Luxton, we must be off. Gentlemen, good-night."
We were alone, my uncle and I. His unnatural calm seemed to be breaking up, and the look of agony on his face filled me with compassion—aye, compassion even towards him.
"There is something troubling you," I said quietly. "You are thinking of Maud."
He looked at me wildly. I knew that I was right.
"Maud's future will be in my hands," I told him in a low tone. "She loves me, and she will be my wife."