Your
obedient servant, sir, your very obedient--
CLEVELAND. That will do, fellow. What was the cause of those shots
just now? [_To_ SOLDIERS.
METCALF. 'Pon my word, sir, it was the guns.
CLEVELAND. Pshaw!
SOLDIER. This fellow attempted to pass without the countersign.
METCALF. You see, sir, I was just about to enter to call on my friend,
Mr. Elsworth, to sip an afternoon glass with him, when a big-booted
fellow cried out, halt. Now, sir, the idea of asking a man well
in both legs to halt, is preposterous. So I said, and walked on
as straight as I could, when bang, bum, whiz, came one, two, three
bullets scattering after my hide--
CLEVELAND. Have done, sir. [_To_ WALTER.] I am desirous of giving
you, sir, every opportunity to disprove your identity with Captain
Armstrong. I chance to know that gentleman's handwriting. There is a
desk with pen and ink. Will you stand that test?
WALTER. [_Aside to_ ROSE.] That would never do. There isn't one of my
pot-hooks that wouldn't hang me.
ROSE. [_Quickly_.] Really, Major Cleveland, you might require a more
reasonable test. Don't you see the Captain has a rheumatic hand?
CLEVELAND. For a rheumatic hand, Miss Elsworth, he handled his sword
somewhat skilfully, just now. You see, sir, resistance is useless. You
will resign your sword, I trust.
[_The two_ SOLDIERS, _at a sign from_ CLEVELAND, _have come up behind_
WALTER.
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