“Corporal McFardell, the charge against you is one of gross neglect of duty,” he said, in a quiet, colourless voice. “On November 8th you permitted the escape of the prisoner, James Pryse, sentenced to five years’ imprisonment with hard labour, while on escort duty from Greenwood to Calford. You are further charged with absenting yourself from duty from November 8th to the 18th, contrary to General Order 9075A2 governing the escort of prisoners by trail. What have you to say? Are you guilty or not guilty?”
“Guilty on both charges, sir.”
McFardell’s reply came on the instant. He knew he had no alternative. There was, however, a sharpness in his tone that gave some indication of the alertness, the readiness to defend, that lay behind his words.
“Sergeant-Major Ironside.”
The man at the desk looked up interrogatively at the first witness. And the Sergeant-Major cleared his throat.
“Sir, on the morning of the 18th Corporal McFardell rode into barracks and reported the loss of the prisoner, James Pryse. He stated that the date of the man’s escape was the 8th. When I questioned him as to the delay of his return to barracks he explained he had been riding the hill country in an attempt to recapture the escaped prisoner, who, he believed, could not have made a clear getaway in the snowstorm that was prevailing at the time of his escape. The Corporal’s horse was in bad shape, and the Veterinary Sergeant reports that he had been pretty well ridden to death. I placed Corporal McFardell under arrest, and reported at once to the Orderly Officer of the day.”
The Sergeant-Major’s evidence was given in the unemotional manner of an automaton. He had given the outline of the facts in the manner his duty demanded. There was no exaggeration; there was no softening. Superintendent Branch turned to the prisoner.
“Have you any question to ask Sergeant-Major Ironside?”
“None, sir.”
Forthwith the Superintendent turned to Inspector Kalton.