"And I," said the elder of the party.
"On your honour?"
"Yes."
Grey laughed lightly, "Oh, of course. Our work is done. Speed the parting guest!"
"I wish," said the Colonel, rising, "to leave no misapprehension on your minds—or on that of Mr. Grey. Those admirable sketches left carelessly on the table are in my pocket. Were they not, you would all three be lost men. Did you think, Grey, that to save your life or my own I would permit you to escape with your work? Had I not these papers, your chance of death would not weigh with me a moment."
Grey started up. "Don't be foolish, Grey," said the older man. "We have played and lost. There has been much carelessness—and we have suffered for it. I accept defeat, Colonel."
Penhallow looked at the watch in his hand. "You have ten minutes grace—no, rather less. May I ask of you one thing? You are every hour in danger, but I too am aware that if this interview be talked about in Richmond or you are caught, my name may be so used as to make trouble for me, for how could I explain that to save my wife's brother I connived at the escape of Confederate officers acting as spies? I ask no pledge, gentlemen. I merely leave my honour as a soldier in your hands. Good-night, and don't delay."
Grey was silent. The older man said, "I permit myself to hope we may meet some time under more pleasant circumstances—for me, I mean,"—he added, laughing. "Good-night."
Penhallow withdrew quickly and found Josiah on guard. He said, "It is all right—but for sport it beats possum-hunting. Open the door." The rain was still falling in torrents. "All right," he said to the policeman, "come and see me to-morrow early."
"What was the matter, sir? I've got to make my report."