“Not Smithson?” cried the lieutenant.
“Yes, Smithson,” said the colonel.
“God bless him!” cried the lieutenant in a low voice full of emotion.
“Amen!” said the colonel. “He saved the lives of that sweet girl—Miss Deane, yours, and then Sir Mark Frayne’s.”
Lacey began to move towards the door; and the doctor rose, gave the colonel a significant nod, and followed.
“Going, Lacey?” said the colonel kindly.
“Yes, sir. I’m going to see and thank that brave lad.”
“No, no; not to-night—I mean this morning,” said the doctor. For the grey light was stealing in, and making the tall, blackened figure of the lieutenant look ghastly.
“Why not?”
“Because,” said the doctor, “the poor fellow is in such a state that I cannot answer for his life.”