"Permit me to arrange this matter," said the Marshal du Camp, unsheathing his sword; "officer, answer me truly on your honour—on your life—how long you have been here."
"Six days, M. le Comte."
"Oh, sang Dieu!" swore the baron, pirouetting about in a fresh gust of fury; "six whole days."
"How came you here?"
"On a litter, insensible—being half-drowned, in attempting to save the life of a French soldier in the Garonne."
"You are a prisoner—"
"On my parole," interrupted Munro, bowing.
"One of those who were landed at Castillon from America, and were en route for the Chateau de Trompette?"
"Exactly, M. le Comte."
"You are named—"