Keep your eyes closed, lass,” suggested the squire, “for there are sights of horror.  In a moment I’ll have ye at headquarters, where things have been kept more tidy.  There, now ye can look; sit down here and fill your lungs with this good air.”

Silently the two seated themselves on the steps of the Nelson house, now pierced in every direction by the shot of the allies, though less damaged than many others.  Presently Janice’s attention was caught by the sound of shuffling footsteps, as of one with only partial use of his legs, and glancing up she gave a slight cry of fear.  And well she might, for there stood the commissary, with his face like one risen from the dead, it was so white and staring.

“Meredith,” he whispered, as if his larynx were parched beyond the ability to speak aloud, while with one hand he held his throat in a vain attempt to make his speech less weak and raucous, “they say ‘The Parley’ has been beat and a flag sent out, and that the post is to be surrendered.  Tell me that Cornwallis will never do that.  He ’s a brave man.  Tell me it is n’t so.”

“Nothing else is there for him to do, Clowes.  He ’s made a splendid defence, but now scarce a gun is left mounted and powder and shot are both exhausted; to persist longer would be useless murder.”

“No, no!  Let him hold out a few days longer.  Clinton will relieve us yet.  He must n’t give up.  God!  Meredith, they’ll hang me!  He must n’t surrender.  I can’t die just as life is worth something.  No, no!  I can’t die now.  I’m rich.  Ninety thousand pounds I’ve made.  To be caught like a rat!  He must n’t surrender the post.”  And muttering to himself, the miserable man shambled away, to repeat the same hopes and expostulations to the next one he found.

“He had another fit last night,” remarked the squire; “and no one has seen him eat or sleep in four days, nor can he be persuaded to either, but goes wandering unceasingly about the town, quite unminding of shot and shell.  Ho! what ’s here?” he ended, pointing up the street.

Three officers were coming towards them, arm in arm, the two outsiders in red coats, and the middle one in a blue one, with buff facings.  Occasionally as they advanced, he in the blue uniform swerved or stumbled slightly, as if he might be wounded or drunk.  But one look at his face was sufficient to show the cause, for across his eyes was tied a broad white band.

“Oh, dadda,” murmured Janice, suddenly paling, “’t is Colonel Brereton they have captured!”

“Nonsense, Jan! ’t is impossible to know any man, so covered.”

The girl attempted no reassertion, and as the three officers marched up to the headquarters, the two hastily rose from the steps.

“Ha!” exclaimed one of the British officers.  “Here stands Miss Meredith now, Colonel Brereton, as if to end your doubting of my assurances of her being alive.”

The blindfolded man, with a quick motion, withdrew the hand passed through the arm of his guide and raised it impulsively to the bandage.