“No. You know that,” cried Dick. “There, look here; fate has made me your officer, boy as I am, and you one of my men.”
“Yes, that’s it,” said the man bitterly, and he sat lower, with his fingers clutching at the flesh of his bare breast through his open shirt.
“I ask you, then, as one gentleman might ask another—promise me Robert Hanson, that you’ll make a brave effort to start afresh.”
The man sprang from his sent and stood with every nerve quivering gazing from the hand Dick had held out to him to the lad’s face and back. Then, with a gasp that was almost a groan, he seized Dick’s fingers and held them in a tremendous grip for a few moments.
“I promise,” he said hoarsely. “It’s like one coming to snatch a man back when he was sinking for evermore.”
The tramp, tramp of the sentry was heard outside, but there was a dead silence in the cell, as those two stood there with the bright light streaming in through the iron bars, till the prisoner let fall the hand he had grasped, and turned sharply round, to stand with his back to his officer.
“Go now, Mr Darrell, please,” he said in a hoarse whisper.
“Yes, I’ll go now,” said Dick softly, and he took a step forward to lay his hand upon the prisoner’s shoulder. “All this is between us. No one will ever know from me what has been said here.”
Dick turned and rapped at the door, which was opened at once, and he passed through, hearing the clang and rattle of the lock and bolts as he strode away, making for the general’s quarters, hurrying his steps as he saw a syce holding a horse at the foot of the steps.
He was none too soon, for before he was across the great parade-ground the general came out and mounted, fortunately for Dick, turning his horse and moving in the direction which brought them face to face.