He was not long left in doubt, for a grey-haired woman appeared, wringing her hands and begging the officer to have mercy.
Quickly Sylvester grasped the situation. The man he had seen escaping was a deserter, the woman his mother. Under the impression that the soldiers were coming to arrest her son the woman was frantic, knowing full well the strict penalties for harbouring a deserter and the far more severe punishment for the fugitive, should he be caught.
With reluctantly assumed harshness the Moke questioned the mother at great length, purposely giving the deserter time to get well away. Her son's uniform and equipment, he discovered, were hidden under the hearth-stone.
"Bring them here," ordered the supposed officer. "Is there no one else living here?"
"Only my grandson, and he is but nine years old," replied the woman. "He is asleep."
"Good enough," decided the Moke. "This is a bit of luck, but hanged if I want to get the old dame into trouble. If I lock her up her grandson will release her in the morning; but how about Slogger's escort?"
Ordering the deserter's mother into a room Sylvester locked the door, leaving the key in the lock. Then, making use of the late Baron Eitel von Stopelfeld's official correspondence form, he wrote a request to the Provost-Marshal of Laibach, asking him to keep the bearers of the letter under arrest until he, Major von Stopelfeld, appeared to lay a charge against them of conduct prejudicial to military interests.
"Can either of you read?" demanded the supposed officer, as he rejoined the escort waiting without.
"No, Excellency."
"Thick-headed louts!" grumbled the Moke. "See to what trouble you have put me. Lock the prisoner in yonder barn, and show this letter to the station-master. He will direct you further. Carry out his instructions and deliver this letter to the person to whom it is addressed and none other. You understand?"