“Indeed, sir, you are free to know all. It is my simple intention to force entrance, and deal summarily with any that shall oppose me in my perfectly legitimate search.”
For a placable man, Mr. Fern’s eyes assumed a rather lurid complexion.
“I may tell you,” he said, a little loudly for him, “that I have here a disciplined and rather unscrupulous force under my command, and that this show of resistance on your part is neither convincing nor judicious. Indeed, your somewhat fatuous self-confidence in thus venturing beyond your own lines, proves you quite ill-fitted to cope with so pregnant a situation.”
“At least you will acknowledge the house is well-defended?”
“Pooh! A mere question of gunpowder. You have Cutwater’s iron shutters—which you have closed, of course—and a quite inadequate company to hold them; and of this, one already, as you know, is but now placed hors de combat by a shot from an over-eager young member of my band.”
“True, true,” murmured Tuke—“the man.”
“A man, sir, undoubtedly; and a fool to thus expose himself. What could you do with such material, Mr. Tuke, even had you remained there to captain it?”
“Oh! thank you, Mr. Fern. You have comforted my heart amazingly. That Whimple is a sterling soul, and his precautions that I have laughed at justify themselves. But who thought to put them into practice?”
The other, that was so like a Quaker in his appearance, gasped and stared.
“Truly, sir,” he said. “I fail to comprehend you.”