“We’re on the wrong tack, Mr Raystoke, sir,” he whispered.
“Think so, Gurr?” said Archy joyfully.
“Oh, yes! These are not the sort o’ folk to do that kind o’ thing. Apologise, and I’ll give the order to march. It goes through me like a knife.”
Archy drew a long breath, and was about to retire his men, when he heard something which made him bound forward, for Celia, unable to bear the horror and alarm any longer had suddenly swooned away.
The midshipman was too late, for Sir Risdon had bent down, raised his child, and was about to carry her into the house.
He turned fiercely on the young officer.
“Well, sir,” he said sternly, “you have your duty to do; pray go on, and then relieve my wife and child of the presence of your men.”
“I beg your pardon, Sir Risdon,” said Archy quickly. “No one could regret this more than I do. You see I am only a young officer, quite a boy, and was sent on this unpleasant duty.”
“Go on, sir, go on!”
“Oh, no!” cried the lad; “I am unwilling to search the place. I’m sure if our lieutenant knew he would not wish it for a moment.”