More than one officer’s cheek paled with the sickness that rose to his heart as he gazed on the hideous spectacle; yet, as the curiosity of all was strongly excited to know who the murdered man really was who had been so unaccountably inducted in the uniform of their lost companion, they were resolved to satisfy themselves without further delay. A basin of warm water and a sponge were procured from the guard-room of Ensign Fortescue, who now joined them, and with these Captain Blessington proceeded to remove the disguise.

In the course of this lavation, it was discovered the extraordinary flow of blood and brains had been produced by the infliction of a deep wound on the back of the head, by the sharp and ponderous tomahawk of an Indian. It was the only blow that had been given; and the circumstance of the deceased having been found lying on his face, accounted for the quantity of gore, that, trickling downwards, had so completely disguised every feature. As the coat of thick encrusted matter gave way beneath the frequent application of the moistening sponge, the pallid hue of the countenance denoted the murdered man to be a white. All doubt, however, was soon at an end. The ammunition shoes, the grey trowsers, the coarse linen, and the stiff leathern stock encircling the neck, attested the sufferer to be a soldier of the garrison; but it was not until the face had been completely denuded of its unsightly covering, and every feature fully exposed, that that soldier was at length recognised to be Harry Donellan, the trusty and attached servant of Captain de Haldimar.

While yet the officers stood apart, gazing at the corpse, and forming a variety of conjectures, as vague as they were unsatisfactory, in regard to their new mystery, Sir Everard Valletort, pale and breathless with the speed he had used, suddenly appeared among them.

“God of heaven! can it be true–and is it really not De Haldimar whom I have shot?” wildly asked the agitated young man. “Who is this, Erskine?” he continued, glancing at the litter. “Explain, for pity’s sake, and quickly.”

“Compose yourself, my dear Valletort,” replied the officer addressed. “You see this is not De Haldimar, but his servant Donellan. Neither has the latter met his death from your rifle; there is no mark of a bullet about him. It was an Indian tomahawk that did his business; and I will stake my head against a hickory nut the blow came from the same rascal at whom you fired, and who gave back the shot and the scalp halloo.”

This opinion was unanimously expressed by the remainder of the officers. Sir Everard was almost as much overpowered by his joy, as he had previously been overwhelmed by his despair, and he grasped and shook the hand of Captain Erskine, who had thus been the means of relieving his conscience, with an energy of gratitude and feeling that almost drew tears from the eyes of that blunt but gallant officer.

“Thank God, thank God!” he fervently exclaimed: “I have not then even the death of poor Donellan to answer for;” and hastening from the guard-room, he pursued his course hurriedly and delightedly to the barrack-room of his friend.

SIX

The hour fixed for the trial of the prisoner Halloway had now arrived, and the officers composing the court were all met in the mess-room of the garrison, surrounding a long table covered with green cloth, over which were distributed pens, ink, and paper for taking minutes of the evidence, and such notes of the proceedings as the several members might deem necessary in the course of the trial. Captain Blessington presided; and next him, on either hand, were the first in seniority, the two junior occupying the lowest places. The demeanour of the several officers, serious and befitting the duty they were met to perform, was rendered more especially solemn from the presence of the governor, who sat a little to the right of the president, and without the circle, remained covered, and with his arms folded across his chest. At a signal given by the president to the orderly in waiting, that individual disappeared from the room, and soon afterwards Frank Halloway, strongly ironed, as on the preceding night, was ushered in by several files of the guard, under Ensign Fortescue himself.

The prisoner having been stationed a few paces on the left of the president, that officer stood up to administer the customary oath. His example was followed by the rest of the court, who now rose, and extending each his right hand upon the prayer book, repeated, after the president, the form of words prescribed by military law. They then, after successively touching the sacred volume with their lips, once more resumed their seats at the table.

The prosecutor was the Adjutant Lawson, who now handed over to the president a paper, from which the latter officer read, in a clear and distinct voice, the following charges, viz.–

“1st. For having on the night of the—th September 1763, while on duty at the gate of the Fortress of Détroit, either admitted a stranger into the garrison himself, or suffered him to obtain admission, without giving the alarm, or using the means necessary to ensure his apprehension, such conduct being treasonable, and in breach of the articles of war.

“2d. For having been accessory to the abduction of Captain Frederick de Haldimar and private Harry Donellan, the disappearance of whom from the garrison can only be attributed to a secret understanding existing between the prisoner and the enemy without the walls, such conduct being treasonable, and in breach of the articles of war.”

“Private Frank Halloway,” continued Captain Blessington, after having perused these two short but important charges, “you have heard what has been preferred against you; what say you, therefore? Are you guilty, or not guilty?”

“Not guilty,” firmly and somewhat exultingly replied the prisoner, laying his hand at the same time on his swelling heart.

“Stay, sir,” sternly observed the governor, addressing the president; “you have not read all the charges.”

Captain Blessington took up the paper from the table, on which he had carelessly thrown it, after reading the accusations above detailed, and perceived, for the first time, that a portion had been doubled back. His eye now glanced over a third charge, which had previously escaped his attention.

“Prisoner,” he pursued, after the lapse of a minute, “there is a third charge against you, viz. for having, on the night of the—th Sept. 1763, suffered Captain de Haldimar to unclose the gate of the fortress, and, accompanied by his servant, private Harry Donellan, to pass your post without the sanction of the governor, such conduct being in direct violation of a standing order of the garrison, and punishable with death.”

The prisoner started. “What!” he exclaimed, his cheek paling for the first time with momentary apprehension; “is this voluntary confession of my own to be turned into a charge that threatens my life? Colonel de Haldimar, is the explanation which I gave you only this very hour, and in private, to be made the public instrument of my condemnation? Am I to die because I had not firmness to resist the prayer of my captain and of your son, Colonel de Haldimar?”

The president looked towards the governor, but a significant motion of the head was the only reply; he proceeded,–

“Prisoner Halloway, what plead you to this charge? Guilty, or not guilty?”

“I see plainly,” said Halloway, after the pause of a minute, during which he appeared to be summoning all his energies to his aid; “I see plainly that it is useless to strive against my fate. Captain de Haldimar is not here, and I must die. Still I shall not have the disgrace of dying as a traitor, though I own I have violated the orders of the garrison.”

“Prisoner,” interrupted Captain Blessington, “whatever you may have to urge, you had better reserve for your defence. Meanwhile, what answer do you make to the last charge preferred?–Are you guilty, or not guilty?”

“Guilty,” said Halloway, in a tone of mingled pride and sorrow, “guilty of having listened to the earnest prayer of my captain, and suffered him, in violation of my orders, to pass my post. Of the other charges I am innocent.”

The court listened with the most profound attention and interest to the words of the prisoner, and they glanced at each other in a manner that marked their sense of the truth they attached to his declaration.

“Halloway, prisoner,” resumed Captain Blessington, mildly, yet impressively; “recollect the severe penalty which the third charge, no less than the others, entails, and recall your admission. Be advised by me,” he pursued, observing his hesitation. “Withdraw your plea, then, and substitute that of not guilty to the whole.”

“Captain Blessington,” returned the prisoner with deep emotion, “I feel all the kindness of your motive; and if any thing can console me in my present situation, it is the circumstance of having presiding at my trial an officer so universally beloved by the whole corps. Still,” and again his voice acquired its wonted firmness, and his cheek glowed with honest pride, “still, I say, I scorn to retract my words.