"Surely not. The Devil draws the line somewhere. One would never presume to suggest a deliberate intention to murder an innocent girl."
The words came clear and cold; then, like a thunderbolt, a heavy fist fell between Peter's eyes, and he was on his back half unconscious. From trembling fear, from emotion almost prayerful at the thought of what might have happened, from frank and absolute sorrow for his carelessness, the young American leapt suddenly into ungovernable and blazing wrath. His very body seemed to expand and tower above the men around him. The Commodore leapt forward, but Stark shook him off like a child. "There!" he shouted, so that the naked walls rang with echoes. "Take that, whoever you are! To hint such a foul crime from your foul soul against an American!"
"Who's this lunatic? Arrest him," cried Mainwaring, and several soldiers hastened forward.
"Cecil Stark is his name—a sailor and a leader in Prison No. 4," said a sergeant.
"Yes, Cecil Stark of Vermont," answered the lad passionately. "Your General Burgoyne knew the name. 'Twas my kinsman that made him surrender and so caused Louis of France and the civilised world to acknowledge America free of your bullying, braggart nation. To hint at murder! You scoundrel—if you're a gentleman, you'll meet me; but you're not."
"Candidly," said Mr. Norcot, who was now restored to consciousness and sat on the ground with his hand over his eyes. "Candidly, I don't want to meet you again. You are young, and evidently Dartmoor has not tamed your fiery spirit. Nor has it polished your nautical wits. You strike before you hear—like your great nation. Tut, tut! My nose is broken. I was just declaring on my honour that to credit you with malice was madness. 'Twas this gentleman here who suspected that you dropped the chisel of set purpose."
"You said it!" exclaimed Stark, turning upon Lieutenant Mainwaring.
"I did, and I repeat it; and don't look at me with that insolent expression, or you'll repent it. 'Tis quite likely this was no accident."
The American regarded the little officer with contempt and astonishment.
"You're a knave to think that; and a coward to say it. At least you don't believe him, young mistress? I'd give up all hope of freedom, or heaven either, if I thought that any woman held me so vile."