“Silence, sir! You can make your defence when you are tried by court-martial.”
“I hope, captain,” whined Sim, “that it won’t be my doing as he’s punished. I’d a deal rather help a fellow than get him into trouble.”
“You are on duty, sir! Attend to your post!” cried Captain Smithers.
He turned angrily then on Private Gray, who was so cruelly mortified, especially as, glancing upward, he saw the window was open, and Rachel Linton and her cousin there, that he could not or would not speak a word in his defence. He gave Sim a look that made that scoundrel shiver, and then said to himself:
“She will not believe that I am a traitor!”
He glanced involuntarily upwards as this thought occurred to him, and the captain ground his teeth with rage as he saw the glance; but feeling as he did that he had his rival beneath his heel, a glow of triumph ran through him.
The next moment, though, all that was gentlemanly and true came to the surface, and he felt that Private Gray was not the man who could be guilty of such a crime. Sim must be the offending party, and Gray be too proud to speak. He could not iron him, or doubt his honour; he was too true a man; and as Sergeant Lund unwillingly came forward with a file of men, the captain motioned him back.
“This is no time for making prisoners,” he said. “Sergeant, change the sentry here. Place two men on guard. Private Sim, go to the guard-room: I may want to question you. Private Gray, this is an awful charge against you, and if you are guilty you will be shot.”
There was a faint sound as of some one’s breath catching at the window above, but it was heard by Captain Smithers and Private Gray alone as they stood face to face.
“I know it, captain!” said Gray, quietly.