Sergeant O’Rorke scratched his ear doubtfully. Miss Willmot had no right to see the prisoner. He had no right to open the door of the cell for her. They had hammered some respect for discipline into Sergeant O’Rorke when he served in the Irish Guards. But they had not hammered the Irish nature altogether out of him. He was willing to go to great lengths, to take risks in order to oblige a friend whom he liked and respected. He had an Irishman’s feeling that laws and regulations are not meant to apply to ladies like Miss Willmot. “Did you think to ask leave of the Major, miss?” he said. “No,” said Miss Willmot, “I didn’t ask anybody’s leave.” “That’s a pity now,” said O’Rorke; “but sure the Major would never have said no if you’d have asked him.” He fitted the key into the lock and flung open the door of the cell. “Prisoner, ‘tention,” he said. Miss Willmot entered the small square room, lit by a single electric light. It was entirely bare of all furniture, save a single rug, which lay rolled up in a corner. The walls and floor were lined with sheets of zinc. A young man stood stiffly to attention in the middle of the room. Miss Willmot stared at him. Then she turned to Sergeant O’Rorke. “Shut the door please, sergeant, and wait outside.” The young man neither stirred nor spoke. “Tommy!” said Miss Willmot. “7432! Private Collins, miss, 8th Wessex Borderers.” He spoke in a tone of hard, cold fury. “Tommy,” said Miss Willmot. “Awaiting trial by Field General Court Martial on a charge of deliberately wounding himself in the leg.” “Tommy,” said Miss Willmot again, “you didn’t do that.” The boy broke down suddenly. The hardness and the anger vanished. “Miss Willmot,” he said, “for God’s sake don’t tell Nelly that I’m here.” “You didn’t do it,” said Miss Willmot. “Of course I didn’t do it,” he said. “There’s been some infernal blunder. I didn’t know what the damned idiots meant when they put me under arrest I didn’t know what the charge was till they marched me in to the C.O. here. He told me. Oh, the Army’s a nice thing, I can tell you. I was expecting to get my stripe over that raid when I got hit with a bullet in my leg, and here I am charged with a coward’s trick. I suppose they’ll prove it. I suppose they’ve got what they call evidence. I only hope they’ll shoot me quick and have done with it I don’t want to live.” Miss Willmot went over to the boy and took his hand. She led him to the corner of the bare room. They sat down together on the folded blanket She talked to him quietly, sanely, kindly. For half an hour she sat there with him. Before she left, hope had come back to him.