The dejection in Glennie’s voice was too pronounced to be passed over.
“Don’t take it so hard,” urged Bob. “Go to Mr. Brigham, in Para, and tell him the whole story. Perhaps a way can be found to make Tolo talk.”
“We’ll try him now,” said Glennie, a flash of forlorn hope crossing his face. “Why do you want to treat me like this, Tolo?” he queried, addressing the prisoner.
“What I do I do for Nippon,” was the slow answer.
“You stole my dispatches, there in La Guayra,” went on Glennie, still addressing himself to the prisoner. “What sort of way was that to treat me?”
“For Nippon,” muttered Tolo; “all is for Nippon, all is for my beloved country.”
“What did you do with those dispatches?” demanded Glennie.
“I will say nothing,” answered Tolo, with careful emphasis.
“Your country will be held to account for this,” proceeded Glennie severely.
“My country has nothing to do with it. I am a Son of the Rising Sun, and I should like to die for my country. If my hands were free, and I had a sword, then—hari-kiri! It is a glory to kill oneself for one’s country.”