"I know you, George Forester," Ronald went on, "and I know that you are guilty. You have to thank the woman who once loved you that I do not at once hand you over to the provost-marshal to be sent to England for trial, but for her sake I will let you escape. Make a confession and sign it, and then go your way where you will, and no search shall be made for you; if you do not, to-morrow you shall be in the hands of the police."
"There is no evidence against me more than against another," the man said, sullenly.
"No evidence, you villain?" Ronald said. "Your knife—the knife with your initials on it—covered with blood, was found by the body."
The man staggered as if struck.
"I knew I had lost it," he said, as if to himself, "but I didn't know I dropped it there."
At this moment the bugle sounded.
"I will give you until to-morrow morning to think about it," and Ronald ran off to mount his horse, which he had saddled before going for his letter.
Sergeant Menzies caught sight of his comrade's face as he sprang into the saddle.
"Eh, man," he said, "what's come to you? You have good news, haven't you, of some kind? Your face is transfigured, man!"
"The best," Ronald said, holding out his hand to his comrade. "I am proved to be innocent."