to bar our progress; he was a middle-aged man, with a chin beard, his voice a soft drawl.
"When he returns," I said quietly, "please tell him that Lieutenant Mann is waiting to see him at the hotel."
"Yes, sir; Lieutenant Mann?"
"Of General Ramsay's staff," added the girl pleasantly. "He may not remember your name, Lieutenant."
"Yes, of Ramsay's—you'll not forget?"
"No, sir; I've got it all right."
We strolled on slowly, passing directly beneath the glare of the lamp. We attempted to talk, but I retain no memory of a single word that was uttered. My heart was beating like an engine, and my throat was dry, the fingers of one hand gripping the butt of a revolver in my belt. I was dimly aware of the tremor in her voice, the pressing closer to me of her slender figure. We passed out beyond the glow of the revealing light, to where our eyes were able to sweep the darkened porch. There were a dozen chairs standing back of the rail, but none were occupied. She gave a little sob of relief, both hands nervously grasping my sleeve.
"Thank God!" she said fervently, "now if we only have five minutes more!"
