“Colonel gone home?”

“Didn’t you see him?” was the uncompromising reply; and the captain did not deign to raise his head or eyes.

“Well—­er—­yes, I suppose I did,” said Mr. Hall, shifting uncomfortably to his other leg, and prodding the floor with the toe of his boot.

“Then that wasn’t what you wanted to know, I presume,” said Captain Chester, signing his name with a vicious dab of the pen and bringing his fist down with a thump on the blotting-pad, while he wheeled around in his chair and looked squarely up into the perturbed features of the junior.

“No, it wasn’t,” answered Mr. Hall, in an injured tone, while an audible snicker at the door added to his sense of discomfort.  “What I mainly wanted was to know could I go to town.”

“That matter is easily arranged, Mr. Hall.  All you have to do is to get out of that uncomfortable and unsoldierly position, stand in the attitude in which you are certainly more at home and infinitely more picturesque, proffer your request in respectful words, and there is no question as to the result.”

“Oh! you’re in command, then?” said Mr. Hall, slowly wriggling into the position of the soldier and flushing through his bronzed cheeks.  “I thought the colonel might be only gone for a minute.”

“The colonel may not be back for a week; but you be here for dress-parade all the same, and—­Mr. Hall!” he called, as the young officer was turning away.  The latter faced about again.

“Was Mr. Jerrold going with you to town?”

“Yes, sir.  He was to drive me in his dog-cart, and it’s over here now.”

“Mr. Jerrold cannot go,—­at least not until I have seen him.”

“Why, captain, he got the colonel’s permission at breakfast this morning.”

“That is true, no doubt, Mr. Hall.”  And the captain dropped his sharp and captious manner, and his voice fell, as though in sympathy with the cloud that settled on his face.  “I cannot explain matters just now.  There are reasons why the permission is withdrawn for the time being.  The adjutant will notify him.”  And Captain Chester turned to his desk again as the new officer of the day, guard-book in hand, entered to make his report.

“The usual orders, captain,” said Chester, as he took the book from his hand and looked over the list of prisoners.  Then, in bold and rapid strokes, he wrote across the page the customary certificate of the old officer of the day, winding up with this remark: 

“He also inspected guard and visited sentries between 3 and 3.35 a.m.  The firing at 3.30 a.m. was by his order.”

Meantime, those officers who had entered and who had no immediate duty to perform were standing or seated around the room, but all observing profound silence.  For a moment or two no sound was heard but the scratching of the captain’s pen.  Then, with some embarrassment and hesitancy, he laid it down and glanced around him.