Throughout this speech the colonel's tone had grown ever louder, and as he uttered the last words with a savage ferocity, the door opened, and Captain Protheroe walked into the room.
"Hullo! colonel, another victim?" he exclaimed. "Who is the wretched devil who is to be shovelled out of the world so speedily?"
There was deep silence. Captain Protheroe gazed round in astonishment at the circle of grave faces, all turned eagerly towards him. Only Lord Jeffreys gave a sudden short laugh, as he lay back in his chair and watched the scene. For he loved to watch human comedies, if tragedy lurked behind them.
Then Colonel Kirke spoke:
"Captain Protheroe, you are under arrest. You will give your sword to Captain Harrington, and accompany him at once to the guard-house. I refuse your parole."
The Captain faced the speaker in astonishment.
"I! Arrested! What devil's foolishness is this?" he cried. "On what charge?"
"Set a watch on your words," answered Kirke shortly. "You are charged with connivance at the escape of a noted rebel, Sir Rupert Winslow."
Captain Protheroe started. So there was ground after all for the accusation; it was no imaginary charge, easy to refute; it was a serious affair, an affair he saw well that might cost him dear. He hesitated a moment, then:
"I claim at least to have the matter referred to the General," he said resolutely. Neither Churchill nor Feversham, he knew well, would be severe upon him.