"That was the very reason why I was bound to help you out of the scrape, if I could. I wanted to set myself right with you. I wanted to convince you I wasn't the man you took me to be." "You have convinced me in the fullest manner; and I owe you a debt of gratitude which I shall never be able to pay." "Steady, my boy; we are not out of the scrape." "No matter whether we get out of the scrape or not, my feelings towards you will be just the same." "Thank you, Somers; I am satisfied." "But where did you get the pass you gave the corporal of the guard at the depot?" asked Somers. "I found the provost-marshal's signature on certain papers, one of which I filled out to suit myself. But there was a sentinel at the door of the office, put there, I suppose, for my benefit; though I was sorry to trouble the poor fellow to stand there on my account. My friend, the provost, had done this little act in the most delicate way in the world. He did not tell me that I was under guard; but I happened to find out before I put my foot in the trap. "In a word, not wishing to disturb the sentinel, I took the liberty of leaving by the way of the window of my chamber, instead of the door. Luckily there was a one-story shop next to the office; and with the aid of a blanket from my bed, I dropped down upon it, without disturbing the meditations of the sentinel or the slumbers of the provost. I got into the street, and went to the depot. There I told the corporal of the guard a very interesting story about the prisoner who had been brought up in the afternoon, meaning myself; and that the man I wanted was needed immediately as a witness. You know the rest, my dear fellow; and here we are." "And here we are likely to remain, I'm afraid," added Somers. "Not a bit of it. I haven't exhausted half my expedients yet. On the night before the attack on the Redan, at Sebastopol, I went all over that city, and spent the evening at the house of one of the most distinguished citizens--a gentleman who had a government contract for rations. Of course, he didn't know me." "Hush! There is some one coming into the stable below," said Somers, as he heard a door opened on the floor below. It was impossible to move then without making noise enough to excite the attention of the person who had entered; for the stable was old and rickety, and the boards creaked at every step they took. The fugitives listened with breathless interest to the movements of the unwelcome visitor. The horse whinnied again; and the person entered the stall, and spoke to him. The sound of his voice filled the occupants of the loft with consternation; for evidently the speaker was not a negro servant, as they had hoped and expected to find him, but a white man, and one who used the English language well.