“To whom do you refer?” asked Wells, coldly.
“To you, sir,” was the prompt reply.
“I can not claim the title you honor me with, in connection with that lady. Besides, she might not thank you for such a service.”
“Oh, yes! yes!” eagerly replied Miss Hayward, as she gazed upon the speaker.
“Stay one moment, Miss Hayward,” answered Wells. “Let us first learn in what manner my deliverance can be effected. Captain Walker, you can proceed.”
“You speak very coldly, Lieutenant Wells, to one who comes to offer you service. But, before I proceed, I must exact a promise, that if my proposition is not accepted, those to whom my words are addressed will make no exposure of the same.”
There was a nod of assent, and Walker proceeded:
“I will not deny the fact that solicitude for Miss Hayward impels the act. But of this no more. Lieutenant Wells, you are unbound and unwatched. Place your sash across your breast, as worn by the officer of the day. I will give you the counter-sign, and thus you will be enabled to pass the pickets, and make good your escape. You can secure a safe retreat, and, after the excitement of the mur—of this unfortunate affair—has died away, Miss Hayward can be apprised of your place of concealment, and take such action in the case as her judgment or heart may dictate.”
A deathlike silence reigned for a moment, during which rapid glances were exchanged between the friends. At length Wells asked:
“Captain Walker, would not an escape imply, upon my part, an acknowledgment of the crime of which I am accused?”