"Certainly. I often saw him, as well as the other prisoners, while in command of the citadel."
"And do you think he recognized you last night?"
"Undoubtedly, for I shouted orders to my men. The bullets were meant for me; in a pursuit by the guards they probably would not have delayed their flight to fire; it was an act of revenge upon me personally."
The colonel rose and paced thoughtfully up and down the room several times; at last he paused, and said with deep earnestness:
"Gerald, I would give much if some other bullet than yours had killed Joan Obrevic."
"Why?" asked the young officer, looking up in surprise.
"You have shot the father, and the son has escaped into the mountains. He will carry the news of your deed there, and I have already told you that last evening orders arrived to detach you from your post, and send you and your men to your regiment."
"Which has long been my ardent desire! I am really tired of guarding prisoners while my comrades are fighting the insurgents."
The colonel shook his head, and the anxious expression of his features was still more apparent as he replied:
"You do not know this people as I do; the vendetta exists among them in all its horrors. The chief has fallen by your hand, not even in battle, in a hand-to-hand conflict, but while flying, and it is known that you have killed him--you will be outlawed among the mountains."