Suddenly the chief justice started to his feet and turned to the colonel. There was a look of excitement on his face, and triumph in his eyes.
"Colonel Kirke," he exclaimed harshly, "you are recalled to London!"
With clenched hands and blazing eyes Kirke turned on Jeffreys.
"Recalled! I! What in the devil's name do you mean?"
"Here are your orders. The regiment will proceed there in the course of a week. You are to set out immediately."
Kirke stared at the paper in amazement; then he threw it to the ground and stamped on it in a sudden fury. "Recalled! Disgraced! Bah! Have you had a hand in this, Jeffreys? Recalled! Now, by——" He roared out a torrent of oaths.
Presently he grew calmer, picked up the paper, read it once more, and locked moodily at the chief justice.
"I must set out at once," he muttered. "But look you, Jeffreys, a word of warning; this is but a passing affair, the work o' that meddlesome Sunderland, I'll be bound. I shall soon return, so be careful what you do. I've set my heart on this matter"—pointing to the captain. "When I return, an that fellow be not handed over to me for court-martial, then, by all the devils in heaven and hell, I'll be revenged. You know me, Jeffreys, and you know what I can do. Take warning."
He swung to the door, then pausing, turned to Captain Protheroe, and eyed him with a scornful glance.
"A narrow shave for you," he said; "but I'll hope to see you hanged yet, my fine fellow."