Captain Protheroe smiled scornfully.
"I'm afraid, colonel," he answered drily, "unless our executions take place simultaneously on the same spot, we can't both realise our mutual hope."
With an oath Colonel Kirke swung out of the room, and the door was shut. Then Captain Protheroe turned to Jeffreys. The judge's face was a study of indecision. He stared moodily at the letters before him, he glanced nervously at the door through which the colonel had retired. He was a man standing betwixt two abysses, doubting over which to risk a jump. At last he raised his head, and faced the captain defiantly.
"Captain Protheroe," he said, "I must withdraw your passport and place you under arrest."
Captain Protheroe stared at the judge in dismay. The secretary took a rapid step forward, and stooped over his master's chair.
"My lord," he whispered, "think what you do. These letters——"
"I know! I know!" cried Jeffreys testily; "but I also know Kirke. 'Tis one or the other, and Kirke is not a man to deny."
Again the secretary stooped to argue, but Jeffreys thrust him aside.
"No, no, Jewars, I tell you 'tis the safer way. This is the only evidence"—tapping the letters—"and it may be disproved."
Then, with a sudden inspiration Captain Protheroe stepped forward, and leaning over the table, fixed his eyes on Jeffreys.