"Was it in connection with some Secret Service requirement?" The Colonel's tone was strictly judicial now; he had banished all feeling from face and manner.
And again, like a machine, Monck made his curt reply. "No, sir."
"There was nothing official about it?"
"Nothing."
"I am to conclude then—" again the rasp was in the Colonel's voice, but it sounded harsher now—"that the business upon which you absented yourself was strictly private and personal?"
"It was, sir."
The commanding officer's brows contracted heavily. "Am I also to conclude that it was something of a dishonourable nature?" he asked.
Monck made a scarcely perceptible movement. It was as if the point had somehow pierced his armour. But he covered it instantly. "Your deductions are of your own making, sir," he said.
"I see." The Colonel's tone was openly harsh. "You are ashamed to tell me the truth. Well, Captain Monck, I cannot compel you to do so. But it would have been better for your own sake if you had taken up a less reticent attitude. Of course I realize that there are certain shameful occasions regarding which any man must keep silence, but I had not thought you capable of having a secret of that description to guard. I think it very doubtful if General Bassett will now require your services upon his staff."
He paused. Monck's hands were clenched and rigid, but he spoke no word, and gave no other sign of emotion.