“You misjudge us,” Fenn continued. “Both Bright and I are patriotic Englishmen. We are engaged at the present moment in a desperate effort to save our country. You are the man who stands in the way.”
“I never thought,” said Julian, “that I should smile in this place, but you are beginning to amuse me. Why not be more explicit? Why not prove what you say? I might become amenable. I suppose your way of saving the country is to hand it over to the Germans, eh?”
“Our way of saving the country,” Fenn declared, “is to establish peace.”
Julian laughed scornfully.
“I know a little about you, Mr. Fenn,” he said. “I know the sort of peace you would establish, the sort of peace any man would propose who conducts a secret correspondence with Germany.”
Fenn, who had lifted his mask for a moment, slowly rearranged it.
“Mr. Orden,” he said, “we are not going to waste words upon you. You are hopelessly and intolerably prejudiced. Will you tell us where you have concealed the packet you intercepted?”
“Aren’t you almost tired of asking me that question? I’m tired of hearing it,” Julian replied. “I will not.”
“Will you let me try to prove to you,” Fenn begged, “that by the retention of that packet you are doing your country an evil service?”
“If you talked till doomsday,” Julian assured him, “I should not believe a word you said.”