McKay?"
Benito shook his head, groaned, and pointed to his wounded arm.
"I see you have been hit; but that won't prevent your talking. Tell me
exactly what happened--it's your only chance; if you don't, we will
wait till your arm is healed, and then hang you here in the middle of
the hut-town. Come, speak out."
"You will spare my life if I tell you?"
"Perhaps: if it is the truth. We shall have means of finding out. But
look sharp!"
In feeble, faltering accents Benito told his story, laying stress on
the villainy of others and making light of the part he had himself
played.
While the provost-marshal was examining the trembling wretch his
assistants had been making a thorough search of the shop. They came
presently to their chief, laden with a number of papers: letters,
passes signed by Gortschakoff, and other documents of a compromising
character, plainly proving that this place had long been the centre of
a cunningly-devised secret correspondence with the enemy.
"There's enough to hang you both, and perhaps others too, at home. As
for you," he turned to Benito, "I will have you removed to the
Balaclava hospital. You will be better looked after there, and we
shall have you under our hands when required. Your accomplice, the
commander-in-chief will deal with, I trust, very summarily; we have
overwhelming proofs of his guilt.
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