"On with his clothes!" shouted Ralston. "How do you feel, Jack, old man?"
"All right!" replied Steadman weakly, with a grin. "How they murdered me!"
At this moment the street bell rang and a middle-aged negro appeared with a valise, tin box, and chamois-covered sword.
"Why, it's old Clarence!" ejaculated Steadman.
The negro undid the valise and took out the olive-drab khaki field uniform. In a trice he had buckled and buttoned the delinquent officer into it. From the tin box came a campaign hat. Steadman fastened on the sword himself. There were tears of feeble excitement in his eyes.
"Are you sure it's not too late?" he asked anxiously.
"I've taken my oath to get you there," answered Ralston.
"By George! You're a good fellow!" repeated Steadman. He held out his hand. "You've saved my reputation--I might almost say--my life."
Ralston took the hand held out to him, the hand only a few moments before raised against him in anger. It was quite warm. McCullough had done his bit well.
"You weren't yourself. You didn't realize--" he began, and stopped. The room swam before his eyes, and he groped for a chair. With the partial accomplishment of his object, and the consequent physical and mental relaxation, the fatigue of the pursuit and the nervous strain which he had been under took possession of him. He found the chair and sank into it, shutting out the light with his hand. Steadman called McCullough, who quickly brought him something to drink. Somewhat revived, Ralston staggered to his feet eager to escape from the warmth of the overheated room and to finish his task.
"Come along, Steadman. We haven't much time. Less than an hour."
"No, no; I'm all right. We must be getting along."
"But we don't leave, you say, until seven!"
"I'll tell you outside." He shuffled toward the door. Steadman followed.
On the steps he turned toward Ralston inquiringly.
"Ellen has been waiting," said the latter in a low voice, looking away.
"What do you mean? Does she know?" asked Steadman in a whisper.
"I don't know how much," replied Ralston. "She feared you were going to lose your chance--that you'd be done for, and asked me to try and look you up. She--she cares for you, I think."
He looked anything but a brute in his olive-drab uniform, campaign hat and shining sword.