His brother lighted a match, burnt red wax, and sealed the letter with a signet ring.

“Duty is duty,” he said.

“Yes, yes; right shall be done and this extraordinary thing made known in the right quarter.  But don’t let it come out through you; don’t darken your future by such an act.  Your personal relations with the man, John,—­it’s impossible you should do this after all these years.”

The other affixed a stamp to his letter.

“Don’t imagine personal considerations influence me.  I’m a soldier, and I know what becomes a soldier.  If I find a traitor to his Queen and country am I to pass upon the other side of the road and not do my duty because the individual happens to be a private enemy?  You rate me low and misjudge me rather cruelly if you imagine that I am so weak.”

Martin gasped at this view of the position, instantly believed himself mistaken, and took John at his word.  Thereon he came near blushing to think that he should have read such baseness into a brother’s character.

“I beg your pardon,” he said.  “I ought to be ashamed to have misunderstood you so.  I could not escape the personal factor in this terrible business, but you, I see, have duly weighed it.  I wronged you.  Yes, I wronged you, as you say.  The writing of that letter was a very courageous action, under the circumstances—­as plucky a thing as ever man did, perhaps.  Forgive me for taking so mean a view of it, and forgive me for even doubting your motives.”

“I want justice, and if I am misunderstood for doing my duty—­why, that is no new thing.  I can face that, as better men have done before me.”

There was a moment or two of silence; then Martin spoke, almost joyfully.

“Thank God, I see a way out!  It seldom happens that I am quick in any question of human actions, but for once, I detect a road by which right may be done and you still spared this terrible task.  I do, indeed, because I know Blanchard better than you do.  I can guess what he has been enduring of late, and I will show him how he may end the torture himself by doing the right thing even now.”

“It’s fear of me scorching the man, not shame of his own crime.”

“Then, as the stronger, as a soldier, put him out of his misery and set your mind at ease.  Believe me, you may do it without any reflection on yourself.  Tell him you have decided to take no step in the affair, and leave the rest to me.  I will wager I can prevail upon him to give himself up.  I am singularly confident that I can bring it about.  Then, if I fail, do what you consider to be right; but first give me leave to try and save you from this painful necessity.”