“Come, come, man alive!” exclaimed Monck, heartily, “don’t be cast down because you are going to be strung up! Fortune of war, you know; and it may be my fate to-morrow if I fall into the hands of the clock peddlers! Come, drink your brandy—it will set you up. And here: take something substantial with it,” he added, rising from his place and going to the side-table to bring a plate of biscuits. At that moment Justin felt a light hand laid upon his head. He looked up and saw Wing standing beside him. The boy was deadly pale, but perfectly calm. “Listen, my Colonel,” he whispered: “there is one chance left to you for life. You know that we have heard of Monck,—how he——” The remainder of the sentence was breathed into the ear of Justin Rosenthal, whose countenance immediately cleared up. “You have saved me again, Wing! But you—you, my boy?” he exclaimed, in a low tone. “Oh, leave me to myself and to God! I shall be safe—I am always safe! Oh, believe it! believe it when I swear it to you. Hush! that monster is coming back!” said Wing, retreating to the door. In fact, at that moment Monck did return, bringing in one hand a plate of biscuits, and in the other a plate of cheese, which he set before his prisoner, saying: “Come! ‘let us eat, drink, and be merry, for to-morrow we die;’ or, rather, to-night, at least, you do!” “All right!” exclaimed Justin, laughing. “A soldier must be ready to meet death at any moment and in any manner. Your health, Major Monck!” he added, pouring a little brandy into his glass. “That’s your sort! That’s the way I like to see a man meet the King of Terrors! Come—I will pledge you in this glass, and then I suppose we must go out and begin the ceremonies. Thunder! how time flies! It is actually a quarter to nine. We must make haste,” said Monck, filling his glass and approaching to touch the glass that Justin held towards him. As the glasses clinked, the eyes of the two men met, and Justin, with a peculiar gesture, too slight to be noticed by an ordinary observer, raised his to his lips, and then set it down. The glass of Monck nearly fell from his hand. He stared steadily at his prisoner for a full minute and then demanded: “What was that for? Was that an accident or not?” “What, an accident?” inquired Justin, innocently. “_That—that!_ Are you—But nonsense! I suppose it _was_ an accident. Come, Colonel Rosenthal! ten minutes to nine, and we have got to go out. Come! it will be all over in a few minutes. What I do is not done in malice, and I hope you will bear no malice towards me,” said Monck, rising from the table. “None whatever. In pledge of which, before we leave the board, let us shake hands,” said Justin, rising, and offering his hand to the guerrilla. “Quite right!” exclaimed Monck, heartily, clapping his fat hand into the extended palm of Justin, who gave it a peculiar grip and shake. Suddenly Monck sank down into his seat as if he had been shot.