"What guarantee do you offer?" asked Frank, opening his lips at last.
"My word; you will not require more; the word of a German and an officer."
"But surely, Herr Wonckhaus, unless I am mistaken your word has not hitherto been accepted even by your allies the Turks. Pardon me for asking what has happened to give it value."
"You insult me!" snapped the German.
"Really I don't think so; I merely state a fact. You offer me something of no value as security for something of considerable value. That is not a business proposition."
Wonckhaus, stung as much by Frank's scornful tone as by his words, flushed darkly, and took a step forward, laying his hand on his sword.
"You English swine!" he cried. "You dare to insult me--me, an officer of the Kaiser?"
Frank had sprung up, and seized the handiest weapon available--a small three-legged stool. Keeping the table between himself and the German, he grasped the stool by one leg, and said:
"Keep your distance!"
Wonckhaus, whether daunted by Frank's threatening attitude or for some reason of policy, stood still, glaring venomously. Then he banged his half-drawn sword into its scabbard, and swung round. At the door he turned suddenly.