"Where is the Colonel?"
"In his tent, sir."
Herbert immediately went on to the fine marquee occupied by Colonel Le
Noir.
The sentinel on duty there at once admitted him, and he passed on into
the presence of the Colonel.
He saluted his superior officer with cold military etiquette, and said: "I have come, sir, to ask of you an order to see Private Traverse
Rocke, confined under the charge of sleeping on his post."
"I regret to say, Major Greyson, that it cannot be done," replied Le
Noir, with ironical politeness.
"Will you have the kindness to inform me, sir, upon what pretext my
reasonable request is refused?" asked Herbert, coldly.
"I deem it quite unnecessary to do so, sir," answered the Colonel,
haughtily.
"Then I have no more to do here," replied Herbert, leaving the tent.
He immediately threw himself into his saddle and rode off to the
Archiepiscopal palace of Tacubaya, where the General-in-Chief had fixed
his headquarters.
Here he had to wait some little time before he was admitted to the
presence of the gallant commander, who received him with all the
stately courtesy for which that renowned officer is distinguished.
Herbert mentioned the business that had brought him to the General's
presence, the request of a written order to see a prisoner in strict
confinement for sleeping on his post.
The commander whose kind heart was interested in the welfare of all his
soldiers, made some inquiries into the affair, of which Herbert
proceeded to give him a short history, without, however, venturing, as
yet, directly to charge the Captain or the Colonel with intentional
foul play; indeed to have attempted to criminate the superior officers
of the accused man would then have been most unwise, useless and
hurtful.
The General immediately wrote the desired order and passed it to the
young officer.
Herbert bowed and was about to retire from the room, when he was called
back by the General, who placed a packet of letters in his hand, saying
that they had arrived among his despatches, and were for the prisoner,
to whom Major Greyson might as well take them at once.
Herbert received them with avidity, and on his way back to the
Colonel's tent he examined their superscription.
There were three letters--all directed to Traverse Rocke. On two of
them he recognized the familiar handwriting of Marah Rocke, on the
other he saw the delicate Italian style of a young lady's hand, which
he readily believed to be that of Clara.
In the midst of his anxiety on his friend's account he rejoiced to have
this one little ray of comfort to carry him. He knew that many months
had elapsed since the young soldier had heard from his friends at
home--in fact, Traverse never received a letter unless it happened to
come under cover to Herbert Greyson. And well they both knew the
reason.