'"
"Have you anything, wretched man, to urge to the commander in chief why
you should not die?" said the major, recovering from the surprise
created by the manner of the other.
Birch trembled, for violent emotions were contending in his bosom. His
face assumed the ghastly paleness of death, and his hand drew a box of
tin from the folds of his shirt; he opened it, showing by the act that
it contained a small piece of paper. On this document his eye was for an
instant fixed--he had already held it towards Dunwoodie, when suddenly
withdrawing his hand he exclaimed,--
"No--it dies with me. I know the conditions of my service, and will not
purchase life with their forfeiture--it dies with me."
"Deliver that paper, and you may possibly find favor," cried Dunwoodie,
expecting a discovery of importance to the cause.
"It dies with me," repeated Birch, a flush passing over his pallid
features, and lighting them with extraordinary brilliancy.
"Seize the traitor!" cried the major, "and wrest the secret from his
hands."
The order was immediately obeyed; but the movements of the peddler were
too quick; in an instant he swallowed the paper. The officers paused in
astonishment; but the surgeon cried eagerly,--
"Hold him, while I administer an emetic."
"Forbear!" said Dunwoodie, beckoning him back with his hand.
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