“You know where I am staying?”

“Yes, commandant.”

“If your officer wakes up in the night, you will send for me at once.”

“Yes, commandant.”

But Daniel did not wake up; and he had hardly opened his eyes on the next morning, about eight o’clock, when the chief surgeon entered his room.  At the first glance at his patient, he exclaimed,—­

“I am sure our imprudence yesterday will have no bad effects!”

Daniel said nothing; but, after the old surgeon had carefully examined him, he began,—­

“Now, doctor, one question, a single one:  in how many days will I be able to get up and take ship?”

“Ah! my dear lieutenant, there is time enough to talk about that.”

“No, doctor, no!  I must have an answer.  Fix a time, and I shall have the fortitude to wait; but uncertainty will kill me.  Yes, I shall manage to wait, although I suffer like”—­

The surgeon was evidently deeply touched.

“I know what you suffer, my poor Champcey,” he said; “I read that letter which came much nearer killing you than Crochard’s ball.  I think in a month you will be able to sail.”

“A month!” said Daniel in a tone as if he had said an age.  And after a pause he added,—­

“That is not all, doctor:  I want to ask you for the letters which I could not read yesterday.”

“What?  You would—­But that would be too great an imprudence.”

“No, doctor, don’t trouble yourself.  The blow has fallen.  If I did not lose my mind yesterday, that shows that my reason can stand the most terrible trial.  I have, God be thanked, all my energy.  I know I must live, if I want to save Henrietta,—­to avenge her, if I should come too late.  That thought, you may rest assured, will keep me alive.”

The surgeon hesitated no longer:  the next moment Daniel opened the other two letters from Henrietta.  One, very long, was only a repetition of the first he had read.  The other consisted only of a few lines:—­

“M. de Brevan has just left me.  When the man told me mockingly that I need not count upon your return, and cast an atrocious look at me, I understood.  Daniel, that man wants your life; and he has hired assassins.  For my sake, if not for your own, I beseech you be careful.  Take care, be watchful; think that you are the only friend, the sole hope here below, of your Henrietta.”

Now it was truly seen that Daniel had not presumed too much on his strength and his courage.  Not a muscle in his face changed; his eye remained straight and clear; and he said in an accent of coldest, bitterest irony,—­

“Look at this, doctor.  Here is the explanation of the strange ill luck that has pursued me ever since I left France.”

At a glance the doctor read Henrietta’s warning, which came, alas! so much too late.

“You ought to remember this, also, that M. de Brevan could not foresee that the assassin he had hired would be caught.”