“Fiddlesticks!” uttered Dave disgustedly.
Marching the fellow up under the light of the lanterns, Dave found several women eyeing him strangely.
“Why, is Mr. Pembroke a prisoner?” cried Lucy Chapin.
“He is, Miss Chapin,” Dave assured her.
“But surely, he can have done noth—”
“All he did, Miss Chapin, was to try to open the main gate of the compound wall and let in the Chinese rabble. I caught him in the act, but, beyond knocking him down, I did not have time to attend further to him just then. On the fellow’s head you will observe the cut made by the butt of my revolver when I struck him down.”
“It seems so impossible to believe!” murmured Miss Chapin.
“And Mr. Pembroke, ladies, is also the rogue who once went under the name of Rogers. Further, I am convinced that this Pembroke, or Rogers, has been in league with the governor of Nu-ping, and with the governor’s underlings. I am certain, in my own mind, that this fellow is largely responsible for the attack on the mission, and for all our troubles on this day and night.”
Dave’s plain words and his simple, straightforward manner carried conviction even to those who were, like Miss Chapin, reluctant to believe ill of the one who had called himself Pembroke.
“Marine, there!” called Dave, turning. The sea-soldier stepped over, saluting.