“I beg your pardon,” said he. “But you seemed to imply—” He checked, at a loss.
Her colour rose. “Well, sir? What do you suggest that I implied or seemed to imply?” But as suddenly her manner changed. “I think we are too concerned with trifles where the matter on which I have sought you is a serious one.”
“It is of the utmost seriousness,” he admitted gravely.
“Won’t you tell me what it is?”
He told her quite simply the whole story, not forgetting to give prominence to the circumstances extenuating it in Butler’s favour. She listened with a deepening frown, rather pale, her head bowed.
“And when he is taken,” she asked, “what—what will happen to him?”
“Let us hope that he will not be taken.”
“But if he is—if he is?” she insisted almost impatiently.
Captain Tremayne turned aside and looked out of the window. “I should welcome the news that he is dead,” he said softly. “For if he is taken he will find no mercy at the hands of his own people.”
“You mean that he will be shot?” Horror charged her voice, dilated her eyes.