“Oh, it is monstrous!” panted the boy, as he threw the blanket aside, and stepped softly, and trembling with excitement, toward the chamber. For now the dread came that something might have happened during the night, in despite of the doctor’s calm way of treating the injury.
The idea was so terrible that, as he reached the door, he stopped short, and turned a ghastly white, not daring to look in. But recalling now that he had heard his friend’s breathing quite plainly over-night, he listened with every nerve on the strain. Not a sound, till the lark burst forth again.
He hesitated no longer, but, full of shame and self-reproach for that which he could not help, he stepped softly into the room, and then stood still, staring hard at the bed, and at a blood-stained handkerchief lying where it had been thrown upon the floor.
For a few moments the lad did not stir—he was perfectly stunned; and then he began to look slowly round the room for an explanation.
The bed was without tenant. Had Captain Murray, or some other officer, come with a guard while he slept and taken the prisoner away?
Then the truth came like a flash:—
The window in the next room—it was open!
He darted back and ran to the window to thrust out his head and look down. Yes, it was easy enough; he could himself have got out, hung by his hands, and dropped upon the pavement, which would not have been above eight feet from the soles of his boots as he hung.
But the wound! How could a lad who was badly wounded in the arm manage to perform such a feat?
He must have been half wild, delirious from fever, to have done such a thing. No.