“Really,” said Scott incredulously; then, feeling he had almost exhausted his ability to torture the man through the latter’s loyalty to Taylor, he began on a new tack.
“Then, Colonel Brinton,” he charged, dropping the ironic suavity that had sat upon him as gracefully as a satin coat on a camel, “your insult to me to-day was gratuitous?”
“If a contrite apology will—”
“It will not. The case stands like this: in time of war and in the enemy’s country you were entrusted with a message from one of your country’s generals to another. You suppressed that message and substituted one wholly different. Do you acknowledge that, Colonel Brinton?”
Brinton opened his mouth as though to protest against this peculiar version of the affair. Before he could speak Scott continued:
“Or am I to believe that General Taylor so far forgot himself as to send the message you delivered to-day? If so, in my report to the President I shall embody—”
“No, no!” exclaimed Brinton, covertly moistening his cracked lips and seeking to rally his benumbed brain to a comprehension of what was going on.
“Then,” pursued Scott, “you do acknowledge that in war-time you deliberately suppressed the message sent by one general to another and that you willfully substituted—”
“Y-yes, sir,” muttered Brinton.
“Very good. As an officer of the United States army you are familiar, Colonel Brinton, with the articles of war?”