"Will you look at my passports now?" I asked. "You may not have the opportunity again."
"Your passports from now on will be void," was the retort. "But I shall be pleased to give you a passport to the devil. I shall kill you," complacently.
"Think of my family," said I, a strange humor taking possession of me.
"You should have thought of your family before you struck me that blow," he replied.
My laughter was genuine; even Gretchen smuggled a smile. The lieutenant had taken my remark in all seriousness.
"You will not run away?" he asked.
"I shall probably be obliged to run away to-morrow," said I, smoothly. "I should not be able to account for your presence here. But I shall await your return from the barracks, never fear." All this was mere bravado; honestly, I shrunk within my clothes and shivered in my shoes. But I had an unfailing mental nerve. Some call it bluff.
Gretchen had been whispering to the innkeeper. When he moved from her side, she was smiling.
"What the deuce is she smiling about?" I wondered. "Does the woman take me for a modern D'Artagnan?"
"Innkeeper," said the lieutenant, "if this man is not here when I return, I'll take satisfaction out of your hide."