"There, there, Armand, you must leave us," said the colonel, as his valet rushed in after the sergeant with the intention of ejecting the intruder. "Our friend has news for me. Withdraw. Come again when I knock, and have no fear. Our friend is in his sober senses."
"I am glad that you have come to me, sergeant," he said, at the end of their interview. "Glad to think there are some here who have kind hearts still after all this bitter warfare. Not for worlds would I have this lad injured, for he behaved with noble generosity to me. Go now, summon your firing party, and march the squad to the hut where this prisoner lies. If any dare give you an order to proceed with this unjust and cruel execution, show this note. Though I am wounded and incapable at the moment, I am still nominally, if not actively, in command, and I will have my orders obeyed. Go, and I will follow presently."
Half an hour later Steve awoke to the fact that men were gathering outside the hut in which he lay. He could hear the tramp of their boots on the frozen ground, and the ring of their muskets as they stood at ease. The voice of the sergeant came to his ears as he gave the commands. "Attention! Shoulder your pieces! Stand steady there, lads, for Monsieur Jules Lapon comes to inspect you."
The door was thrown open, a gust of freezing air swept the apartment, and there was Jules, muffled in furs, his face haggard and weary as if he had some great weight on his mind which had kept him wakeful since the arrival of the prisoner, two bright, hectic spots on his cheeks and staring, blood-shot eyes which seemed to denote a fever. And despite the cruel smile now on his lips, it wanted no acute observer to see that this young man, with all his bravado, was hesitating as to his course of action, not out of compassion for the prisoner, but for fear of what might happen to himself. However, the sight of Steve's calm face settled the question.
"You are ready, sergeant?" he asked curtly. "Good. Then bring out the prisoner. There is a wall yonder, where you will set him up and shoot him promptly. He is a dog and a spy, and should thank us for giving him bullets instead of a noose."
"He will certainly not thank you for his life, monsieur. The lad is too proud and too brave for that. He would not ask it of me, and much less of you."
The words, spoken in the coldest and most cutting tones, caused Jules to swing round and face the open. He flushed to the roots of his hair, and then turned deathly pale, while, like the coward and bully he was, his lips at once commenced to frame lies and excuses. For his superior was there. Four soldiers stood before him, bearing a bed, on which, warmly covered with skins, lay the long figure of the colonel.
"Have you no heart, man?" demanded the colonel fiercely. "Do you not know that this prisoner was the leader of those men whom we attacked last week? Yes, you know that, I see. Then it is also in your knowledge that it is to that gallant youth that I owe my life. And yet you would shoot him! You are suspended, monsieur. You will retire to your hut till I can send you out of the fort. Sergeant, you will carry monsieur the prisoner to my hut, where he will remain till completely recovered. Tell off one of the men to wait on him."
The colonel fell back on his pillow, waved to his bearers, and was gone without deigning to glance again at Jules Lapon. Then the sergeant's voice was heard.