"What, still harping on the old theme? Ah, well, you always were a cool fellow, but I'm afraid your coolness will avail you little now. I gave you a chance at Port Said, for old acquaintance' sake, a chance which you wantonly threw away in a manner little calculated to enlist my sympathy; and now, nothing I can do will save you," and he grinned fiendishly at the irony of his own words.
George was not in the least taken in by them; he knew full well that this man would stop at nothing to injure him, so he treated his words with contempt.
"Ah, you do not believe me," Mark went on, observing the look of disdain on George's face.
"But you will soon see. Listen to this," and he read from what he had written on the paper in front of him.
"I am sending down a man captured, by my command, in the act of spying our works here. He is an interpreter to the enemy, and therefore a man to be feared. I refrain from sentencing him here, as a spy is always a useful subject for interrogation for the authorities, and if he receives his punishment here, of course that will all be lost."
"That is my dispatch to Arabi, Helmar, as far as you are concerned. Doubtless you can draw your own conclusions as to its meaning."
"Yes," replied George, "I can. It means that you are asking to have me shot, probably tortured first to extract information from me which I do not possess. Bah! you are a cowardly hound!"
"Exactly. For the sake of Auld Lang Syne," he replied coldly. "I do not care to have your execution on my hands. But I have no intention of letting you escape. Now you understand what I meant when I said that nothing could save you."
As he finished speaking, he again bent over his writing. George watched him as his pen flew rapidly over the paper; he had nothing that he cared to say to such a despicable hound. He was simply raging with indignation at the traitor, and his fingers twitched longingly to get to the man's throat. However, he restrained himself, and waited for anything further that he had to say. Presently he looked up.
"Well, is there anything I can still do for you?" he asked, in a sneering tone. "Although your fate has been decided, and I know that in less than a week you will be dead, I do not wish to deny you any comfort that my camp can provide."