“Advance, friend, and give the countersign.”
“Ivry.”
“Correct, Ivry. Pass!”
The officer, with a motion of his hand to the orderly to stay where he was, came closer to the picket. “Before I do so,” he said, and his tone was a strange one, “tell me your name.”
“Philip Deaderick.”
“You are trying to disguise your voice.... Richard!”
“Don’t, Fauquier! I am Philip Deaderick, gunner in ——’s battery, horse artillery.”
“How long?”
“Since Groveton. Don’t betray me.”
“Who knows? Does Judith know?”