"When is it to be?"
"They didn't tell me that. 'Twill not be long, you may be sure. My lord Marlborough has only got to scribble his name on the paper, and he'll never remember 'twas me as held his horse at Salisbury in '88 and got nowt but a smile.—Master Harry, belike I sha'n't see 'ee again in this world. When you go home-along, you'll say a word o' comfort to the old ancient gaffer, won't 'ee? Tell un all the truth; tell un I be main sorry to vex his old gray hairs,—though not for punchen Robins. Gi' him my dear love: his boy, he calls me, poor soul: and say as how I were quite easy in mind and not a bit afeard. He's a trooper of old Noll's, you see."
"I'll give him your messages," said Harry with a gulp,—"if ever I get back alive."
"Ay true, ye med not. The corn-dealen was a safer line o' life.—What! time's up."—A sentry had thrown open the door.—"Good-bye, Master Harry; God bless 'ee! and I hope you'll get a man as'll polish your 'coutrements to your mind. This time to-morrow, belike, I shall be a true man o' peace."
Harry shook his hand in silence; he could not trust himself to speak. He was angry at what he thought the essential injustice of the sentence. Sherebiah had only struck the paymaster in self-defence, and in the original cause of dissension had right on his side. But Harry knew what military discipline meant; it was rigid as iron. Still, he could not help asking himself whether even now it was impossible to get the whole circumstances considered and the sentence revised. He thought of making a personal appeal to Marlborough, but soon dismissed the idea, for Marlborough had doubtless forgotten him, and he had no force of persuasion to bring to bear. Suddenly, as he walked slowly along the street, he remembered Godfrey Fanshawe; he was an officer in a companion regiment, Schomberg's Horse; he would ask his advice. He enquired for the quarters of the regiment, found that it was encamped a short distance out on the Tilburg road, and hastened thither with an anxious heart.
The troops were under canvas, and Harry found Fanshawe joint occupant of a tent with a fellow subaltern.
"Hullo!" he cried when he saw Harry. "I wondered when I should run up against you. I have heard all about your feat—rescuing beauty and all that. What in the world brought you to this country?"
"'Twould be long in the telling. You shall know all in season. I am here on a very special errand. You remember Sherry Minshull?"
"As well as I do you. Many's the trout we've caught together. A right good fellow!"
"At this moment he is lying under sentence of death in the town-house at Breda. Unknown to me, he had been a soldier, and deserted after thrashing an officer——"