Heideck perceived that it would be useless to deny the fact, in the face of this direct evidence, and his military honour would, in any case, not have permitted him to do so.

“What the lieutenant has said is quite correct,” he answered, anticipating the Colonel’s question; “but I did not take part in the fighting.  As a friend of Colonel Baird, who was killed, I kept as long as possible close to him, so as to be able to bring his relations, who were left behind in Lahore, tidings of his fate and of the issue of the battle.”

“You, a foreigner, were armed in the English square.  Since you confess this much, we need not trouble ourselves with further proceedings.  You, gentlemen, will all agree that we should treat him, according to martial law, as a traitor?”

The last words were addressed to the other judges, and, with a silent bow, they declared their assent.

“Since you, a citizen of a nation not at war with us, have fought in the ranks of our enemies, the Court must therefore sentence you to death.  The judgment of the Court will be at once carried into effect.  Have you anything to say?”

Heideck was as though stunned.  It appeared to him as though a black veil was drawn across the world; and a sharp pang of grief shot through him as he reflected that he would never see Edith again, and that she would in vain wait for him for ever.

Then his pride was roused.  No one should call him cowardly or timid.

“Is it possible to appeal against the judgment of this court-martial?” he asked, looking firmly at the Colonel.

“No!”

“Then I must, of course, submit to your sentence, but I protest both against the procedure of the Court and against the judgment you have pronounced.”

His protest evidently did not make the slightest impression.

“Have you drawn up the execution warrant?” the Colonel said, turning to the secretary.  He then appended his signature and handed it to one of the attendant Cossacks.

“Lead the prisoner away.”

Two of the soldiers took Heideck between them, and he followed them with a proud, erect bearing, without saying a word more.  Amidst the rain of bullets on the battlefield he had not felt the least trace of fear; but the thought of being led like an animal to the slaughter-house, filled him with horror.  All the same a power he had hitherto not discovered, sustained him.  The new danger awoke in him new vigour of soul and spirit.

The Cossacks conducted him a long way on the road which leads from Anar Kali to the Meean Meer cantonment.  Heideck looked about him and observed the changes that had taken place in Lahore, just like a traveller who already in spirit lives in the new world that he intends to visit and who looks upon familiar objects as something strange.  Everywhere he saw small detachments of cavalry, who were preserving order.  Only faint clouds of smoke still marked the place of the fire in the city, which had evidently been extinguished.  The splendid gardens of Donald Town, through which their way led, the agricultural plantations, and Lawrence Park wore the same aspect as in the time of profoundest peace.