“I—I—I beg your pardon, Colonel,” he stammered at last.
“For backbiting me, sir,” said the Colonel shortly. “I could not help hearing your last sentence, for you raised your voice and forced it upon me. Now, if you please, I am one of the—what?”
“I was—I was only telling Moray here, sir, that you were—er—er—very passionate, and that if—”
“Passionate, am I?”
“Yes, sir,” stammered Denham. “No, no; I beg your pardon, sir. I didn’t mean to say that.”
“I presume you are saying what you consider to be the truth, Mr Denham,” said the Colonel coldly. “Now, pray go on: and that if—”
“If he came to you with—with a message, sir, that he has just received, you would kick him out of your presence.”
“Humph!” said the Colonel sternly. “Just this minute, sir, you said of me what you believed to be the truth; but now you have been saying what you must know to be false.—Pray, what was the message Moray?” he added, turning to me.
There was only one thing to do, and I did it, giving Moriarty’s message to the end.
“The insolent, conceited idiot!” said the Colonel scornfully. “You need not go back to him with my answer; but if you come across him again and he asks what I said, you can tell him this: that at the first opportunity I shall hand him over to my superior officers, as one of Her Majesty’s subjects found with arms in his hand fighting against the British force after taking service with her enemies, and doing his best to impress Englishmen to serve in the same ranks.—Mr Denham, I should like a few words with you in the morning.”