"I implore you to spare him! Take my life, if you will. It was all my doing. But for me he never would have gone. I sent him from his home—I drove him into the insurgent ranks. I alone—I alone am guilty."
"And who are you that you plead for him so vehemently?" asked the Captain, his watery eye resting insolently on her beautiful, flushed face. "Are you his wife?"
"No—no; I am not."
"Ah, you are his sweetheart."
Julian's colour changed. "He does not love me. He is innocent, therefore I would buy his life."
"Buy!" echoed the Captain.
"Yes—buy it."
"It cannot be done. It is forfeit. In a quarter of an hour he dies! Look here, pretty miss: I have my orders. He is to die. I am a soldier: I obey orders. He dies."
He put his hand to his cravat and drew it upwards. The action showed how Anthony was to die.
"I have brought you here something worthy of your taking," said Julian, lowering her voice—"documents of the highest value. Documents, letters, and lists—what you have been looking for, and worth more than a poor lad's life. What is his body to you when you have driven out of it the soul? A cage without a bird. Here, in these valises, I have something of much more substantial value."