“Oh, dadda,” murmured Janice, suddenly paling, “’t is Colonel Brereton they have captured!”
“Nonsense, Jan! ’t is impossible to know any man, so covered.”
The girl attempted no reassertion, and as the three officers marched up to the headquarters, the two hastily rose from the steps.
“Ha!” exclaimed one of the British officers. “Here stands Miss Meredith now, Colonel Brereton, as if to end your doubting of my assurances of her being alive.”
The blindfolded man, with a quick motion, withdrew the hand passed through the arm of his guide and raised it impulsively to the bandage.
“Hold,” warningly said the British officer, as he caught the hand. “Small wonder the handkerchief becomes intolerable, with her to look at, but stay on it must till you are within doors.”
Jack’s hand clutched the officer’s arm. “God! man, you are not deceiving me?”
“Speak up, Miss Meredith, and convince the sceptic that General O’Hara, though Irish, is yet a truth-teller on occasion.”
“Oh, Colonel Brereton,” said Janice, “I have just left Sir Frederick, who is at the point of death, and he gave me a message of farewell to you. Can you not go to him for a moment? ’T would be everything to him.”
Jack hesitated. “My mission is so important—General O’Hara, wilt deliver this letter with a proper explanation to his Lordship, while I see this friend?”