“You are wronging me fearfully, Darrin!” Pembroke protested, with a strong attempt at injured dignity.
“Then I’m going to injure you still more outrageously,” Darrin retorted, “for I’m going to place you in arrest. Moreover, if I live to get to the ‘Castoga,’ you are going out there with me as a prisoner.”
“Darrin, you—you must be joking,” stammered the fellow.
“No; I am not—Rogers!”
Dave watched for the effect of that shot. At mention of the name Pembroke turned more pallid.
“What do you mean by using that name when addressing me?” he stammered.
“Because it’s your right name,” Dave retorted. “You used that name before you ever used the name of Pembroke. Rogers, you are under arrest. Walk on ahead of me, straight to the circle of the lanterns. Don’t attempt to trifle with me, for my patience was never so short as it is now. March!”
“Surely, you are not going to humiliate me before all the ladies,” protested the prisoner. Warned by the light in Ensign Dave’s eyes he started forward.
“That’s exactly what I’m going to do,” snapped Darrin. “I’m going to expose you so fully that you’ll get no recognition save that of scorn.”
“Darrin, one of these days you’re going to pay a big penalty in regrets and apologies,” the prisoner warned him.