“I decline to answer.”
The excellent Major, who was not noted for his patience with the evil-doer, turned an alarming colour, yet he still sought to reason with the man. “The answer to that question could not possibly injure you under any circumstances.”
“Just the same, I decline to answer. You said it was my right.”
With no little difficulty the Major still held himself in. “I am asking,” he said, “for information which will enable me to return this lady to her friends until her memory is restored.”
“I decline to give it,” said Imbrie hardily. His face expressed a pleased vanity in being able, as he thought, to wield the whip-hand over the red-coats.
The little Major exploded. “You damned scoundrel!” he cried. “I’d like to wring your neck!”
“Put that down, please,” Imbrie said to the clerk with ineffable conceit.
The Major put his hands behind his back and stamped up and down the four paces that comprised the length of his tent. “Stonor, I wonder—I wonder that you took the patience to bring him to last night!” he stammered. “Go on and question him if you want. I haven’t the patience.”
“Very well, sir. Imbrie, when I was taking you and this lady back to Fort Enterprise, why did you carry her off?”