"Is one of them the fact that you are afraid of what the 'Spy' is going to say?"
The Attorney-General flushed deeply and moved away a few steps. "I'm sick of mud-throwing," he muttered.
"George Fleetwood!" Mornway exclaimed. He had advanced toward his friend, and the two stood confronting each other, already oblivious of Shackwell's presence.
"It's not only that, of course. I've been frightfully hard-worked. My health has given way—"
"Since yesterday?"
Fleetwood forced a smile. "My dear fellow, what a slave-driver you are! Hasn't a man the right to take a rest?"
"Not a soldier on the eve of battle. You have never failed me before."
"I don't want to fail you now. But it isn't the eve of battle—you're in, and that's the main thing."
"The main thing at present is that you promised to stay in with me, and that I must have your real reason for breaking your word."
Fleetwood made a deprecatory movement. "My dear Governor, if you only knew it, I'm doing you a service in backing out."