“But surely you know General Kolfort?”
“I must see the permit,” he answered doggedly.
“That’s easily managed. You can write one, General.”
The man shook his head.
“They must be signed and countersigned,” he returned, with growing suspicion and rising anger.
“The fellow’s right,” said the General, turning to me with a laugh. “It’s absurd, but he’s right.” His manner enraged me. He was trying all he dared to play into the man’s hands.
“I am only obeying orders,” said the sergeant; and for a moment it seemed as if between them I should be fooled. But I knew well enough what short work my prisoner would have made of such an interruption under other circumstances.
“Do you tell me you don’t know that this is General Kolfort?” I asked very sternly.
“I am not here to study faces, sir, but to examine permits,” was the blunt blockhead’s answer.
“You can at least read, then? And I presume you know the General’s handwriting. You shall have an order signed by the General, and one which will need no countersign to ensure its being obeyed. What’s your name and regiment? Quick!” I said in a short tone of command.