A long moment of silence followed this announcement. Drayton’s distress was plainly visible. The stillness was broken by Harriet.
“And why, sir,” she said sharply, “should my brother be among those who are bidden to report?”
“On account of his rank, Miss Harriet,” he returned. “Johnson was a captain, so eight captains and five lieutenants make up the thirteen officers. The victim should be as near the rank of Captain Johnson as possible.”
“It is according to the rules of war,” spoke Clifford Owen clearly. “The Americans but act according to their rights. We should do the same. I am ready to accompany you at any time, Captain Drayton.”
“You shall not, Clifford,” shrieked Harriet, throwing her arms about him. “John Drayton is but one. We can overpower him, and you can escape.”
“Break my parole!” he ejaculated, horrified. “My sister, you know not what you say.”
“And after all, he may not be the unfortunate one, Miss Harriet,” spoke Drayton with an attempt at consolation. “There are thirteen from among whom the choice is to be made.”
David Owen roused himself.
“True, there are thirteen,” he murmured. “Would it be permitted, John, that I go with the lad?”
“Yes, Mr. Owen.” John Drayton’s eyes were full of compassion. “No undue rigor is to be used in carrying out orders, though of course few spectators will be allowed.”