At once Grant wheeled and stood gazing at him keenly.
"Pardon?" he said, and he advanced with deliberation to the desk where he stood with his eyes steady on Harris' face. "Lieutenant! Do you want me to think you are out of your mind?"
Before Harris could reply Grant stopped him with a gesture and picked up a batch of papers which lay on the desk.
"The man has been given every chance. He has been court-martialed—and found guilty."
He dropped the papers in the case back on the desk. "And you—his counsel—having failed to prove him otherwise now come to me—for pardon."
He snapped his fingers. "Lieutenant, you are wasting time." And he turned away, pausing for a moment to turn over a sheaf here and there on his desk and meditate their contents. The incident of Lieutenant-Colonel Morrison has been disposed of and, in another moment would be forgotten. It was now or never for Harris and he answered quickly.
"I hope not, sir. Neither yours nor mine." And then, as the General looked up with some surprise at this retort. "You have read the findings of the court?"
"Yes," was the grim reply. "And approve the sentence. To-morrow he will be shot."
"Yes, sir," acknowledged Harris. "Unless you intervene."
At this curiously insistent plea for clemency the short, stocky bearded man who, to so few, had the bearing of a great general, faced Lieutenant Harris and gave him a look which made the young officer's bravery falter for a long moment.