“I have no confession to make,” I cut in. “But I’m glad to know his name. I shan’t forget it.”
He tried to work on my fears, then. This was not England, the times were troubled, military laws prevailed, and suspects who would not account for themselves might be treated very harshly.
“I have had ample proof of that myself, thank you,” said I, drily; “and as soon as I am free, I shall see that some others learn to spell the word.”
He gave me up then and left with a curt warning. “You will not be free until you have submitted.”
It began to look as though it was to be trial of staying power; and I had all that day and half the next to ponder his warning.
Then something happened.
I had had my midday meal and was trying to sleep when I heard the shuffling of steps and the murmur of voices in the corridor.
There was a pause, the key was thrust into the lock, the door thrown open and two warders entered followed by the bully and, of all people in the world, the least expected—Volna.
CHAPTER XVI
I GET A BIT OF MY OWN BACK
AT the sight of the man who had used his official power to give me the lie and then have me treated like a felon my rage flashed at once into a flame.