"You said you knew nothing of the chaplain," I broke out.
"Not so. I said he was on no record given me. Officially I know nothing of him."
"Come," said I, "you know well how I am concerned for him. You quibble; you lied to our General."
A wicked light shone in his eyes. "I choose to pass that by, for the moment," said he. "I am sorry you forget yourself; it were better for you and me to be courteous till our hour of reckoning, Shall we not meet some day?" he said, with a sweet hatred in his tone.
"With all my heart."
"But where?"
"In yonder town," said I, pointing.
He laughed provokingly. "You are melodramatic," he rejoined. "I could hold that town with one thousand men against all your army and five times your fleet."
"You have ever talked and nothing done," said I. "Will you tell me the truth of the chaplain?"
"Yes, in private the truth you shall hear," he said. "The man is dead."