"I am content," was the cool reply.
"But I am not!" Dredlinton shouted, straining at his cords. "I resign! I resign from the Board! Do you hear that, Wingate? I chuck it! Set me free!"
"The proper moment for your resignation from the Board of the British and Imperial Granaries," Wingate told him sternly, "was a matter of six months ago. You are a little too late, Dredlinton. Better make up your mind to stick it out with your friends."
Dredlinton groaned. There was all the malice of hatred in his eyes, a note of despair in his exclamation.
"They are strong men, those two," he muttered. "They can stand more than
I can. I demand my freedom."
Wingate threw himself into an easy-chair.
"Endurance," he observed, "is largely a matter of nerves. You must make this a test. If you fail, well, your release always rests with your two friends. I am sure they will not see you suffer unduly."
Phipps leaned a little across the table.
"We shall suffer," he said hoarsely, "but it will be for hours. With you, Wingate, it will be a matter of years! Our turn will come when we visit you in prison. Damn you!"