"No, sir, I am sorry to say that—that—" stammered Quentin, ignorant of what dereliction of duty might be here inferred; "I only—that is——"
"Then get a look of it, and there you will find yourself gazetted to a lieutenancy in the 7th, or Royal Fusiliers. I congratulate you, sir—your regiment is at present in England, where I wish we all were, with honour and safety."
Quentin was overwhelmed by this intimation.
"Oh, sir, are you sure of this?" exclaimed the poor lad, trembling with many mingled emotions.
"Sure as that I now address you; and if your name be Quentin Kennedy, serving with the King's Own Borderers—full lieutenant in the corps, which has no other subalterns. Now you cannot continue to serve thus—carrying a musket with the 25th; other work must be found for you. When will you be relieved from this post?"
"In a few minutes, sir—my hour is nearly up."
"Then you will take a note from me to Crawford, your colonel," said Moore; and drawing forth a note book, he rapidly pencilled a note, tore it out, folded it and addressed it.
"The bearer hereof," it ran, "Mr. Q. Kennedy, having been appointed by his Majesty to a lieutenancy in the 7th Fusiliers, will serve on my personal staff, as an extra aide-de-camp, until he can join his regiment, now in Britain.
"JOHN MOORE, Lieut.-Gen."
"You will show this to Colonel Crawford and to the adjutant-general, with my compliments. It will be in orders to-morrow. Wyndham has gone to London with poor General Lefebre and the despatches of our cavalry affairs at Sahagun and Benevente, so I must have your assistance in his place during this expedition," he added, smilingly, with an emphasis. "Captain Hardinge will lend you a horse—I know he has some spare cattle—meet me at my quarters opposite the cathedral to-morrow morning early; till then good-bye, Lieutenant Kennedy, and I wish you success!"