"You devil!" he whispered.
"Yes, yes, I know. I 've heard that from you before. I don't care to hear it again." I advanced and stood threateningly over him.
"Look at me," I sternly commanded.
Slowly he raised his head until his eyes met mine. The pallid mask was pinched, and it wore a look of torment.
"Once for all, Burke, are you going to speak?" I suppose the quietness with which I uttered it was ominous to the wretch. "Or will I be obliged to drag you to that cell of which I spoke?"
With a quick gesture, he outspread his arms.
"Enough, Swift, enough!" he cried, in a hoarse, distressed voice. "I know when I 'm beaten; I 'll give up. What do you want?"
"Good," without alteration of tone or manner. "Let's go to a pleasanter place." And we went into the Captain's private room, where a stenographer sat concealed by a screen.
Burke dropped into a chair. I thrust my hands into my coat pockets, and as I slowly paced to and fro, addressed him.
"I 'll tell my story. When I 'm wrong you may correct me. See that you do it, too, because you won't know when I 'm testing you or when I am really ignorant of the facts. You see how much I trust you, Mr. Burke.