“We will hail the enemy,” said Hale, and stepping forward, he placed his hand to his mouth, and shouted:
“Halloa! Captain Prime.”
No answer came back for a moment, and then the wicket in the upper floor was flung open.
“What’s wanted?” demanded a gruff voice from the opening.
“Captain Prime.”
“What for?”
“None of your business,” said Hale. “Trot out Captain Prime.”
“Go to the devil.”
“Sorry, but I can’t oblige you.”
“Captain Prime is not here.”