nearest tree; for Bouchard had truly a mediaeval soul.

But Hugo's case was so extraordinary that it had reached Westerling's
ears, and Bouchard knew that Westerling wished to see Hugo when he was
apprehended. It was not for Bouchard to consider this desire of a chief
of staff to deal with the case of a private in person as singular. No
request of the chief of staff was singular to him. It became a matter of
natural law. He called to one of the staff guards who was pacing back
and forth near by.

"Take this man in charge and watch him sharply until General Westerling
sends for him!"

"And you will get justice from General Westerling!" It was Marta's
voice. In approaching she had unavoidably overheard part of the
conversation. "Justice is his first characteristic!" she added as the
hawk eyes turned their scrutiny into hers, which were calm and smiling.

Hugo had not seen Marta since he had been carried to the coachman's
quarters. Minna had visited him frequently, bearing inquiries from her
mistress as well as custards. He had looked forward to a talk with Marta
as a kindred spirit, yet it was difficult for him to reconcile the
woman speaking now with the woman who had kissed him on the forehead.
But he said nothing as he was marched away.

"Miss Galland!" exclaimed Bouchard in a way that said he knew her story.
"Yes, that little monkey can depend on more justice than he deserves.
The unanswerable evidence is on the chief of staff's desk awaiting his
arrival."

Bouchard's hawk eyes probed hers for an instant longer and seemed to
find nothing to call further curiosity; then he lifted his cap and
proceeded with his tour of inspection.

Marta smiled thoughtfully as she watched his receding figure, while her
eyelashes narrowed and she inclined her head with a nod before she moved
away in the direction of the tower. There was almost complete silence
along the front. Since yesterday's action, which had checked the guns
commanding the range of the house, there had been little firing. She
guessed that the lull was only a recess of preparation for the grand
attack on the first line of permanent defence, and that probably this
would follow Westerling's arrival. He was due at four o'clock and he
would be characteristically prompt to the minute.

"It must not be! Hugo Mallin is too fine a spirit to be sacrificed. I'll
go on my knees, if need be, to Westerling," Marta was thinking as she
paced back and forth in her room. On h