“Have you shown the book to any one else, or told any one what you make out of it?”
“No.”
“Do not do so, then. That is all, now. I will keep the book,” he added, putting the little brown volume inside his coat.
Several days later the officer in charge of the quarters where the native prisoners were confined reported to the captain: “One of the prisoners keeps begging to be allowed to see you, sir,” he said. “He says you told him he might go free. Shall I let him be brought up here?”
“Yes. Send him up.”
“Well?” said Captain Von Tollig, when the man appeared at headquarters, and the orderly who had brought him had retired.
“The little book, Señor. You said I could have it back, and go.”
“Yes. You may go. I will have you sent safely through our lines; but the book I have decided to keep.”
The man’s face grew ash-colored with disappointment or anger. “But, Señor,” he protested. “You told me ——”
“I know; but I have changed my mind. You can go, if you wish, without the book, or not, just as you choose.”