My distress and grief at the sight were beyond description. That the brave fellow who had been such a tower of strength and to whom we owed certainly our lives should have fallen in the moment of victory caused me the keenest grief I had ever felt. But happily it was not so bad as I feared. He was alive, his pulse was distinctly beating, so I rushed upstairs for a light and the brandy. On returning with Asta we found that poor Strode’s coat and shirt were saturated with blood. The sight, though alarming e............