“You may passion, continued the officer to the remainder of the party.  This fellow, at once a murderer and a traitor, is my prisoner.”

“I know him only as an American, sir,” was the reply.  “He has taken the oaths of allegiance within the last week, and as such is an acknowledged subject of the American States.”

“I have no time to enter into explanation, neither am I competent to discuss this question, sir.  For what I have done, I have the instructions of my superior.  If you have complaint to make it most be to your own Chief.  To mine alone am I responsible.  Let the scoundrel be well secured,” he pursued, as the last of the litters at length defiled, and addressing the men to whom Desborough had been given in charge.

“Ha!” exclaimed Middlemore, who had all this time been absent on the duties connected with his guard, and now approached the scene of this little action for the first time; “what! do I see my friend Jeremiah Desborough-the prince of traitors, and the most vigorous of wrestlers—­verily my poor bones ache at the sight of you.  How came you to be caught in this trap, my old boy, better have been out duck-shooting with the small bores I reckon?”

But Desborough was in no humour to endure this mirth.  Finding himself discovered, he had risen heavily from the litter to his feet, and now moved doggedly towards the guard house, where the men had orders to confine him.  His look still wore the character of ferocity, which years had stamped there, but with this was mixed an expression that denoted more of the cowering villain, whom a sudden reverse of fortune may intimidate, than the dauntless adventurer to whom enterprizes of hazard are at once a stimulus and a necessity.  In short, he was entirely crest fallen.

“Come and see the effect of Gerald’s excellent fire,” said Middlemore, when Desborough had disappeared within the guard room.  “No wonder the American General was frightened into sir-render, hem!  I will show you the room pointed out to toe by the subaltern whom I relieved, as that in which the four field officers and three surgeons were killed.”

Preceded by their companion, Captain Granville and Grantham entered the piazza, leading to the officers’ rooms, several of which were completely pierced with twenty-four pound shot, known at once as coming from the centre battery, which alone mounted guns of that calibre.  After surveying the interior a few moments, they passed into a small passage communicating with the room in question.  On opening the door, all were painfully struck by the sight which presented itself.  Numerous shot holes were visible every where throughout, while the walls at the inner extremity of the apartment, were completely bespotted with blood and brains, scarcely yet dry any where, and in several places dripping to the floor.  At one corner of the room and on a mattress. lay the form of a wounded man, whom the blue uniform and silver epaulettes, that