“No.”
“And you are—”
“Yes.”
“Then I’m dashed if I can hang you! And a devil of a dilemma it places me in!” muttered the guerrilla chieftain, placing his great hands upon his knees, and dropping his head upon his breast in deep thought.
Justin resumed his seat, and sat as calmly as if he had been at his own table, for he felt that he was now as safe as if he had been in his own camp.
“And time is flying! And presently some of the men who were charged with the preparations for the execution will be at the door, to tell me that all is ready, and to ask for the prisoner! And in their present state of excitement, the rascals—the mutinous rascals—would take you out and hang you whether I like it or don’t like it; a devil of a dilemma! I had better get you off from here as quietly as possible—eh, Colonel Rosenthal?”
“As you like. It is your affair,” said Justin, coolly.
Monck scratched his head, repeating at intervals:
“A devil of a dilemma!”
Then he got up and went to the door and spoke to the sentinel on duty there, saying: