He hastened his steps, and the men exchanged glances and then looked at Hardock, expecting him to speak.
But Hardock felt choking, and remained silent as they went on, till, turning about an angle in the zigzagging gallery, they came suddenly upon a nearly burned-out candle stuck against the wall, and beneath it, plainly to be seen, one of the leaves of the Colonel’s pocket-book.
It was some moments before the old officer spoke, for the finding of the light confused him.
“Why, what’s this?” he said, in an agitated voice; “you have taken some turning by mistake, and worked round to the way we came. Then very likely my poor boys have done the same, and found their way out by now.”
No one spoke.
“Don’t you think so, my lads?”
Still no one answered; and now he began to grasp the truth.
“Why, what’s this?” he cried angrily. “Surely you men have not dared—have not been such cowards—as to turn back! Halt!”
The last word was uttered in so commanding a tone of voice that the little party stopped as one man.
“Hardock! Explain yourself, sir. Did you dare to change the arrangements during my temporary indisposition?”