'I'm a soldier myself,' he says presently, 'and I've been out
in my time and hit my man. I don't want to run any one into a
corner for an affair that was at all necessary or correct. At the
same time, I want to know that much, and I'll take your word of
honour for it. Otherwise, I shall be very sorry, but the doctor
must be called in.'
'I neither admit anything nor deny anything,' I returned. 'But if
this form of words will suffice you, here is what I say: I give
you my parole, as a gentleman and a soldier, there has nothing
taken place amongst us prisoners that was not honourable as the
day.'
'All right,' says he. 'That was all I wanted. You can go now,
Champdivers.'
And as I was going out he added, with a laugh: 'By the bye, I
ought to apologise: I had no idea I was applying the torture!'
The same afternoon the doctor came into the courtyard with a piece
of paper in his hand. He seemed hot and angry, and had certainly
no mind to be polite.
'Here!' he cried. 'Which of you fellows knows any English? Oh!'--
spying me--'there you are, what's your name! YOU'LL do. Tell
these fellows that the other fellow's dying. He's booked; no use
talking; I expect he'll go by evening. And tell them I don't envy
the feelings of the fellow who spiked him. Tell them that first.
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