Major Rebb sat moodily looking at the tips of his slippers. He saw well that Gerald was right, and if the young man--as he probably would--supported Mrs. Geary in making trouble, very unpleasant questions might be asked. "Why the devil do you interfere in my business?" he asked, between his teeth.
"Because I love Mavis Durham."
"She is dead."
"You can't be sure of that."
"Then you know!" cried the Major, starting to his feet.
"Now how should I know anything when you have exonerated me from complicity in her flight?" argued Gerald, dexterously skirting the subject. "If I had run away with Mavis she would be my wife by this time."
"And would have passed her honeymoon in prison?" growled Rebb, quite convinced by Gerald's quiet tone.
"I think not. I should have fought for my wife. And I intend to search for her and fight for her still."
"You'll never find her. If she were alive she would have been captured long ago."
"Ah, it would please you, no doubt, to see her hanged."