“Mr. Lawson,” he remarked, somewhat sternly, as the Adjutant now returned from delivering over his prisoner to Ensign Fortescue, “I thought I understood from your report the officers were all present!”

“I believe, sir, my report will be found perfectly correct,” returned the Adjutant, in a tone which, without being disrespectful, marked his offended sense of the implication.

“And Lieutenant Murphy—­”

“Is here, sir,” said the Adjutant, pointing to a couple of files of the guard, who were bearing a heavy burden, and following into the square.  “Lieutenant Murphy,” he pursued, “has been shot on the ramparts; and I have, as directed by Captain Blessington, caused the body to be brought here, that I may receive your orders respecting the interment.”  As he spoke, he removed a long military grey cloak, which completely enshrouded the corpse, and disclosed, by the light of the still brightly flaming torches of the gunners, the features of the unfortunate Murphy.

“How did he meet his death?” enquired the governor; without, however, manifesting the slightest surprise, or appearing at all moved at the discovery.

“By a rifle shot fired from the common, near the old bomb proof,” observed Captain Blessington, as the adjutant looked to him for the particular explanation he could not render himself.

“Ah! this reminds me,” pursued the austere commandant,—­“there was a shot fired also from the ramparts.  By whom, and at what?”

“By me, sir,” said Lieutenant Valletort, coming forward from the ranks, “and at what I conceived to be an Indian, lurking as a spy upon the common.”

“Then, Lieutenant Sir Everard Valletort, no repetition of these firings, if you please; and let it be borne in mind by all, that although, from the peculiar nature of the service in which we are engaged, I so far depart from the established regulations of the army as to permit my officers to arm themselves with rifles, they are to be used only as occasion may require in the hour of conflict, and not for the purpose of throwing a whole garrison into alarm by trials of skill and dexterity upon shadows at this unseasonable hour.”

“I was not aware, sir,” returned Sir Everard proudly, and secretly galled at being thus addressed before the men, “it could be deemed a military crime to destroy an enemy at whatever hour he might present himself, and especially on such an occasion as the present.  As for my firing at a shadow, those who heard the yell that followed the second shot, can determine that it came from no shadow, but from a fierce and vindictive enemy.  The cry denoted even something more than the ordinary defiance of an Indian:  it seemed to express a fiendish sentiment of personal triumph and revenge.”

The governor started involuntarily.  “Do you imagine, Sir Everard Valletort, the aim of your rifle was true—­that you hit him?”

This question was asked so hurriedly, and in a tone so different from that in which he had hitherto spoken, that the officers around simultaneously raised their eyes to those of their colonel with an expression of undissembled surprise.  He observed it, and instantly resumed his habitual sternness of look and manner.