The German officers swore, and threatened him.
"You cannot make me disclose information," declared Rollo. "It is against the rules of war to coerce a prisoner."
A chorus of loud jeering laughter greeted this statement.
"My young friend," quoth the Major when the mirth had subsided, "you do not understand. When Germany makes war she makes war: there are no half-measures. Why should we, the greatest nation upon earth, be bound by rules and regulations laid down by a self-constituted peace party—the Geneva Convention?"
"But Germany was a party to it."
"Because at the time it suited her purpose. It is no use arguing, young Englishman. The point is, do you answer all our questions, or must we exercise pressure? Bear in mind that if you give false information, which we are certain to find out, you will be shot."
Rollo felt far from comfortable. His faith in the traditions of war, in which he had been versed by his father, was ruthlessly destroyed by the cold-blooded declaration of his captor. It was as well that he was given to pondering rather than to forming a hasty and impulsive resolution, otherwise he might have told the German major to do his worst. Under similar circumstances the impetuous Kenneth might have sealed his own death-warrant; but Rollo remembered that a still tongue makes a wise head.
Fortunately at this juncture an orderly knocked at the door. In response to an ungracious permission to enter he strode stiffly into the room, clicked his heels, and saluted.
"What is it?" demanded the Major.
The soldier handed his officer a sealed dispatch. The German broke the flap of the envelope with a violent movement of his thick fingers. It was characteristic of him and his profession: the use of brute force, even when dealing with the frailest thing that balked him.