"And I have no regret" he said. "In the duty of a military servant—I have failed. But my prisoner still lives! I could not accept the confidence of his child—the trust of innocence—a baby's kiss—with the blood of her father on my hands!" He dropped his hands and half turned away.
The General turned, a little at a time—first his head and then his shoulders.
"A very pretty sentiment," he remarked dryly. "But you seem to forget that we are not making love but war."
With a supreme burst of anger at his helplessness before the brute forces which would presently send him forth to the firing squad, Morrison wheeled on his commanding general and flared forth with his last reply.
"Yes, war! And the hellish laws that govern it. But there is another law—Humanity! Through a trooper in my command the home of an enemy was turned to ashes—his loved ones flung out to starve. When a helpless tot had lost its mother and a father would protect it, then war demands that I smash a baby's one last hope—in the name of the Stars and Stripes. And then—to march back home, to a happy, triumphant North—and meet my baby—with the memory of a butcher in my heart—By Heaven, sir! I'd rather hang!"
For a moment General and Colonel regarded each other fixedly and then the General turned away to pace the floor. Presently he came to his decision and walked slowly back to his desk.
"Lieutenant Harris," he said in tones whose significance could not be misunderstood, "I was right. You have wasted your time—and mine."
Then he sighed wearily and made a last gesture to Forbes.
"The guard" he said.
It was all over.