Vincent, who was sitting at a table, happened to look up, and was astonished at seeing the sergeant first put his finger on his lips, then take off his cap, put one hand on his heart, and gesticulate with the other.
Vincent gazed at him in blank surprise, then he started and almost sprang to his feet, for in the Yankee sergeant he recognized Tony Moore; but the uplifted hand of the negro warned him of the necessity of silence.

The negro nodded several times, again put his hand on his heart, and then disappeared.

A thrill of hope stirred every vein in Vincent's body.

He felt his cheeks flush and had difficulty in maintaining his passive attitude.

He was not, then, utterly deserted; he had a friend who would, he was sure, do all in his power to aid him.
It was extraordinary indeed that it should be Tony who was now his jailer; and yet, when he thought it over, it was not difficult to understand.