“Your tongue is as skilful in fence as your sword,” he said, smiling grimly. “But you know my meaning perfectly.”
“Then pack me off to Tirnova—if you think you have proof to prove the unprovable; and at the same time show your hand to the rest of Europe. No, no, General Kolfort,” I said, smiling and shaking my head, as though the thing were no more than a jest, “that cock won’t fight, and you know it.”
“I regard you and could deal with you as a renegade Bulgarian officer conspiring against your Prince; a crime that merits imprisonment.”
“Very good and plausible, no doubt—were it not for the precaution that I have taken to let people in London know differently. But if that’s to be your line, we shall have the gaols pretty full here, and you and I, General, will be able to resume our interesting conferences, hobnobbing in one of them on more equal terms than here;” and I wagged my head at him again.
The taunt enraged him. His eyes flashed fire, and a flush of wrath tinged his dried, wrinkled, parchment cheeks. He sprang to his feet and sounded the bell on his table furiously.
“I will put your devil-may-care humour to the test. You shall go to Tirnova.”
“As you please,” I answered, surprised now in my turn, for I had not thought he would dare to push matters to extremes. “I will tell you one thing. My arrest will be the signal for that despatch to be forwarded. If I do not go to Tirnova, that will not go to London.”
“I care nothing for your Government,” he exclaimed, all self-control gone in his anger. “They dare do nothing, even if they would.”
At that moment an officer entered in response to the bell.
“Arrest the Count Benderoff,” cried the General, pointing at me a finger that trembled with rage. “Give up your sword, sir. You are a traitor, unworthy to bear it.”