l Kelly is wearying for this
letter from General Banks. If I get it through prompt it will be
remembered for me,' he says. ''T will be a point toward promotion,' he
says. 'My horse has had a couple of hours' rest, and he's a Trojan
beside,' he says. 'I'll sleep an hour myself, and then I'll be taking
the road back to Romney. Ashby's over on the other side,' he says, 'and
the sooner I get Ashby off my mind, the better pleased I'll be,' he
says. And thereupon he slept for an hour--"

Marchmont still regarded the bed. "I'll be damned if I know, my friend,
whether you're blue or grey! How long has he been gone?"

Father Tierney pondered the question. "By the seven holy candles, my
son, I was that deep asleep when you knocked that I don't rightly know
the time of night! Maybe he has been gone an hour, maybe more--"

"And how did he know the countersign?"

"Faith, and I understood that the general himself gave him the word--"

"H--m!" said Marchmont, and tugged at his moustache. He stood in silence
for a moment, then turned sharply. "Blue or grey, which? I'll be damned
if I don't find out! Your horse may be a Trojan, my friend, but by this
time he's a tired Trojan! Roberts!"

"Yes, sir."

"You two go at once to headquarters' stables. Saddle my horse--not the
black I rode yesterday--the fresh one, Caliph. Get your own horses.
Double-quick now! Ten minutes is all I give you."

The men departed. Marchmont stalked out of the chamber and to the open
front door. Father Tierney, repossessed of the candle, followed him.
"Sure, and the night's amazing chill! By good luck, I've a fine old
bottle or two--one of the brigadiers, that's a good son of the church,
having sent me a present. Whist, captain! a little glass to cheer the
heart av ye--"

"I'll not stop now, father," said the aide dryly. "Perhaps, upon my
return to Frederick I may call upon you."

"Do so, do so, my son," said Father Tierney. "And ye're going to
overtake the lieutenant with the general's last words?--Faith, and while
I think of it--he let drop that he'd be after not going by the pike. The
old road by the forge, that goes south, and then turns. It's a dirt
road, and easier on his horse, the poor crathur--"

"Thanks. I'll try the pike," said Marchmont, from the doorstep. "Bah!
it's turning cold! Had you noticed, father, what exceedingly thin ice
you have around this house?"

"By all the powers, my son!" answered Father Tierney. "The moonlight's
desaving