If Mr. Blood was surprised, he did not betray it.
“I was.”
“Then I remember you—five years ago, or more, you were in Tangiers.”
“That is so. I knew your colonel.”
“Faith, you may be renewing the acquaintance.” The Captain laughed unpleasantly. “What brings you here, sir?”
“This wounded gentleman. I was fetched to attend him. I am a medicus.”
“A doctor—you?” Scorn of that lie—as he conceived it—rang in the heavy, hectoring voice.
“Medicinae baccalaureus,” said Mr. Blood.
“Don't fling your French at me, man,” snapped Hobart. “Speak English!”
Mr. Blood's smile annoyed him.