"As I know something of him, General," said I, "I may as well mention that nothing is more likely."
"Who is he—what is he?" asked Serazin hastily.
A very brief account—I need not say not a flattering one—told all that I knew or had ever heard of our worthy "Town Major." Many of the officers around corroborating, as I went on, all that I said, and interpolating little details of their own about his robberies and exactions.
"And yet I have heard nothing of all this before," said the General, looking sternly around him on every side.
None ventured on a reply, and what might have followed there is no guessing, when the sharp rattle of musketry cut short all discussion.
"That fire was not given by soldiers," said Serazin. "Go, Tiernay, and bring this fellow before me at once."
I bowed, and was leaving the room, when an officer, having whispered a few words in Serazin's ear, the General called me back, saying,
"You are not to incur any risk, Tiernay; I want no struggle, still less a rescue. You understand me."
"Perfectly, General; the matter will, I trust, be easy enough!"
And so I left the room, my heart, shall I avow it, bumping and throbbing in a fashion that gave a very poor corroboration to my words. There were always three or four horses ready saddled for duty at each general's quarters, and taking one of them, I ordered a corporal of dragoons to follow me, and set out. It was a fine night of autumn; the last faint sunlight was yet struggling with the coming darkness, as I rode at a brisk trot down the main street toward the scene of action.