“We will reserve this as Question Number Two,” answered the Doctor gravely, “and proceed with the narrative, which (I opine) goes on to say that Captain McNeill preferred his oath to the excuse for considering it annulled, collected his escort, shook hands with you, and went forward to his fate.”

“A man must save his soul,” Captain McNeill explained modestly.

“You are to me, sir, a heretic (pardon my saying it); which prevents me from taking as cheerful a view as I could wish concerning your soul.  But assuredly you saved your honour.”

“Well, I hope so,” the Captain answered, picking up the story:  “but really, in the sequel, I had to take some decisions which, obvious as they seemed at the time, have since caused me grave searchings of heart, and upon which I shall be grateful for your opinion.”

“Am I appealed to as a priest?”

“Most certainly not, but as a Professor—­a title for which, by the way, we have in Scotland an extraordinary reverence.  I rode on, sir, with my escort, and that night we reached Tolosa, where the young Lieutenant—­ his name was Gerard—­found a surgeon to set his bone.  He suffered considerable pain, yet insisted next morning upon proceeding with me.  I imagine his motives to have been mixed; but please myself with thinking that a latent desire to serve me made one of them.  On the other hand, the seal of Marmont’s letter had been broken in his keeping; a serious matter for a young officer, and one which he would naturally desire to defer explaining.  At Tolosa he accounted for his wound by some tale of brigands and a chance shot at long range.  On the morrow we rode to Irun and crossed the Bidassoa.  We were now on French soil.  Throughout the morning he had spoken little, and I too had preferred my own thoughts.  But now, as we broke our fast and cracked a bottle together at the first tavern on the French shore, I opened fire by asking him if he yet carried the Marshal’s letter with the broken seal.  ‘To be sure,’ said he.  ‘And what will you do with it?’ I went on.  ’Why, deliver it, I suppose, to the Governor of Bayonne, to whom it is addressed.’  ’And, when asked to account for the broken seal, you will tell him the exact truth about it and the rescue?’ ‘I must,’ he answered; ’and I hope my report will help you, sir.  It will not be my fault if it does not.’  ‘You are an excellent fellow,’ said I; ’but it will help me little.  You do not know the contents of that letter as I do—­not willingly, but because it was read aloud in my presence by the man who opened it.’  And, before he could remonstrate, I had told him its purport.  Now, sir, that was not quite fair to the young man, and I am not sure that it was strictly honourable?”

Captain McNeill paused with a question in his voice.”

“Proceed, sir,” said the Doctor:  “I reserve this as Question Number Three, remarking only that the young man owed you something for having saved his life.”