"Sorry, sir!" replied von Eichborn. "Then this man returned to the house and struck me with his fist!"
"You struck an officer!" Von Stein turned on Phil, Prussian indignation overwhelming every other idea. "Why didn't you shoot him?" he demanded of von Eichborn.
"He took away my revolver when I was down and stunned," explained von Eichborn.
"Baby!" roared von Stein. "And you—" to Phil, "you struck an officer! That is settled!"
"After he had struck at me!" replied Phil steadily.
"Yes, at his face with his gloves!" put in Helen, stepping forward and looking squarely at the General. "I saw it. And he was not here to interrogate us. He wanted to go upstairs where my sister was. Then our cousin came."
Von Stein gave the two girls a scrutinising look. There was truth in Helen's eyes as surely as Henriette was beautiful. He liked Helen, not having much use for beautiful women, being unhappily married to one. But aside from her evidence he knew that his nephew was lying, as he had before to get himself out of a scrape.
"Did you try to go upstairs? Answer!" he said to von Eichborn, who understood from experience that confession was best when his uncle spoke in that fashion.
"Yes, sir!"
"And you struck at him?"