Before General Mainwarren could make answer to Mortimer’s exclamation, a file of men, with an officer in command, invaded the room.
“A wounded guardsman, sir, and his companion,” reported the officer, saluting General Mainwarren. “What shall be done with them?” and he brought forward Captain Swords and Professor Dean.
“Oh, cousin, cousin!” cried Beatrice, running up to General Mainwarren, all excitement, “I demand protection—special protection for him!” and she pointed to Captain Swords.
“It is granted!” said General Mainwarren, with a smile. “His companion, likewise, shall be protected. We all of us owe something,” he added, turning to his men, “to Professor Dean and to Captain Mortimer.”
“Long live the New Republic!” again came the cry from the grounds.
“How so? What do you owe us?” exclaimed Mortimer in astonishment.
“To Professor Dean,” said General Mainwarren, gravely, “we owe the primary invention of the air-ship from which we derive our strength; and to Captain Mortimer, because to his unexpected escape from us, the New Republic owes its birth three days earlier than was anticipated. Yes, Captain Mortimer, your escape precipitated our attack just three days.”
“Oh!” exclaimed Mortimer, blankly.
“I think you are needed over there,” said Beatrice, touching him lightly upon the arm, and turning her eyes toward the divan. “As for me, I must give my attention to the wounded. How sweet and cute he looks with the bandage tilted down toward his left eye!” And she walked to where stood Captain Swords and rested both hands upon his arm.
Mortimer crossed to the divan where Dorothy lay. He bent over her until their lips nearly met and whispered so low that none other heard—something which brought the color in a warm tide to her pale face.