“What's the matter here?” he asked.
“A prisoner refractory, your reverence,” said the watchman. “Wants to come out.”
“Mr. North! Mr. North!” cried a voice, “for the love of God, let me out of this place!”
Kirkland, ghastly pale, bleeding, with his woollen shirt torn, and his blue eyes wide open with terror, was clinging to the bars.
“Oh, Mr. North! Mr. North! Oh, Mr. North! Oh, for God's sake, Mr. North!”
“What, Kirkland!” cried North, who was ignorant of the vengeance of the Commandant. “What do you do here?”
But Kirkland could do nothing but cry,—“Oh, Mr. North! For God's sake, Mr. North!” and beat on the bars with white and sweating hands.
“Let him out, watchman!” said North.
“Can't sir, without an order from the Commandant.”
“I order you, sir!” North cried, indignant.