"But I intended it as such. I wrote your name, I recollect; papers have a trick of losing themselves: I should have done something for you but for sheer forgetfulness.—Mr. Cardonnel, will you please make a note? Mr.—your full name, sir!"
"Henry Winterborne Rochester."
"Mr. Henry Winterborne Rochester for an ensigncy.—I had heard of the ruse at the Comtesse de Vaudrey's: naturally I did not connect it with you. You are with Grootz the contractor, I believe?"
"I was, my lord, but I have just been commissioned cornet in the Anspach dragoons."
Marlborough and the group of officers laughed outright.
"Begad, my lord, you're behind the fair," cried Colonel Cadogan, a big burly Irishman of twenty-eight, Marlborough's quartermaster-general.
"Ay, indeed, an angel has stirred the pool. But I am delaying you, Mr. Rochester; you must ride hard. Good-bye!"
Harry had been itching to get away. Every moment was of importance. Bowing himself out, he hurried to the inn where Fanshawe had promised to stable a horse. It was there ready saddled, in charge of a trooper of Fanshawe's regiment, who said that Harry's own charger Orange was awaiting him half-way to Breda. Harry leapt to the saddle, flung a coin to the man, and in less than two minutes was making his way at a sharp trot among the press of villagers and soldiers thronging the street. Clear of the village he went at a canter through the camp, where all was bustle in preparation for the day's march: then, gaining the free highroad, he set his steed to the gallop. Some minutes later he heard a village clock strike five.
Two hours after Harry started on his ride, Godfrey Fanshawe left his tent in company with Lieutenant Tettefall, and mounted his horse to ride into Breda. He had passed a sleepless and anxious night, his mind haunted by the impending fate of Sherebiah, with whom he had spent many a pleasant day on the banks of the Avon, or in the coverts of his father's estate. The execution had been fixed for eight by the clock of the Hervormde Kerk near the market-place, Marlborough's despatch confirming the sentence having arrived late on the previous evening. Fanshawe had seen the major in command, explaining that Harry had gone to see the duke with a view to a remission of the sentence. The major had laughed at the idea, swearing that he would not delay the execution a moment.
Galloping into Breda, Fanshawe's first care was to enquire whether Harry had arrived, or whether any message had come from Marlborough countermanding the execution. But nothing had been heard of the one or the other. Fanshawe made a last appeal to the major, but Robins had that officer's ear, and had convinced him that the condemned prisoner was a rascal of whom the army would be well rid.