“I thought so.”
“Why, how did you know, my lad?” said Ben, innocently.
“Only by your manner. But look here,” continued Roy, “I want very badly to see that place where the enemy got in.”
“Ay, and so do I, sir. I’ve lain awake at nights with that place worrying me more than my big chop as ought to ha’ been well by this time. I don’t understand it yet, only I expect as he let ’em in. So he filled all the long underground passages with the men, and got ’em there ready to go up the towers when the signal was given? I daresay he give it with his miserable squeak of a pipe.”
“I’m going to ask General Hepburn to let me see the place.”
“And he won’t let you, of course. You’ll have to give the sentries something, and perhaps they may.”
“No; I’m not going to do anything underhanded, Ben. I shall ask the general himself.”
“Oh come, I like that, sir,” said Ben, derisively. “He didn’t do anything underhanded along with Fiddler Pawson, did he?”
“Wound shooting, Ben?” said Roy, drily.
The old soldier chuckled, and the boy rose and went straight to the general’s snug quarters in a little place adjoining the dining-room to prefer his request.