“The parade is formed, sir,” remarked the lieutenant, confusedly, “but I cannot find the officer of the guard.”
“Sir!” exclaimed Captain Headley.
“I cannot find Mr. Ronayne, sir—I have myself been over to his quarters, and looked into his bed-room, but it is clear that he has not been in bed all night.”
“What is the meaning of all this? Send Doctor Von Vottenberg here immediately.”
And lucky was it for that gentleman that the officer who now desired his attendance on the commandant had roused him from that Lethean slumber in which he had been, only a few minutes before, so luxuriously indulging.
“Doctor Von Vottenberg,” commenced the captain, as soon as that official made his appearance before him; “you are quartered with Mr. Ronayne. Have you seen any thing of him last night or this morning—no evasion, nay,” seeing that the doctor's brow began to be overclouded, “I mean no attempt to shield the young man by a suppression of the truth.”
“I certainly saw him last night, Captain Headley, but not at a very late hour. We took a glass or two of punch, and smoked a couple of pipes together, but we both went to bed early, and for my part, I know that I slept so soundly as to have heard nothing—seen nothing, until I got up this morning.”
The doctor spoke truly as to the time of their retirement to rest, for the ensign had left him early in the night, while he had found his way to his own bed, early in the morning.
“The boat is nearing the landing-place, sir,” reported the sergeant of the guard, who now came up, and more immediately addressed Lieutenant Elmsley.
This information, for the moment, banished the subject under discussion. “Let the men pile their arms,” ordered Captain Headley; “and when this is done, Mr. Elmsley, follow me to the landing-place.”