Lord Dunseveric looked at Maurice, looked him quietly up and down, as if he saw him then for the first time.
“I can believe,” he said, “that my son might overpower the sentry. He is, as you see, a young man of considerable personal strength, but I should be surprised to learn that he dressed the prisoner in the captain’s uniform. I may be misjudging my son, but I have hitherto regarded him as somewhat deficient in humour. You must admit, General Clavering, that only a man with a feeling for the ridiculous would have thought of——”
“It will be better for you to hear what the sentry has to say, my lord, and I beg of you to regard the matter seriously. I assure you it will not bear joking on. The rescue of a prisoner is a grave offence. Captain Twinely, kindly order your man to tell his story.”
“Since I am not a prisoner at the bar,” said Lord Dunseveric, “I shall, with your permission, sit down. As to the seriousness of the business in hand, I confess that for the moment the thought of the worthy Twinely waking this morning not only with a splitting headache but without a pair of breeches on him keeps the humorous side of the situation prominent in my mind.”
The sentry told his story. To Maurice’s great relief, he omitted all mention of the girl who had supplied the lamp which so conveniently burnt low, but he had recognised Maurice and was prepared to swear to his identity.
“No doubt,” said General Clavering, “you will wish to cross-question this man, my lord.”
Lord Dunseveric yawned.
“I think that quite unnecessary,” he said, “a much simpler way of arriving at the truth of the story will be to ask my son whether he rescued the prisoner or not. Maurice, did you bind and gag this excellent trooper?”
“Yes.”
“Did you subsequently release Neal Ward from the cellar?”