"I have," proudly, her eyes meeting his, "and, therefore, wonder what your purpose may be in ordering me here. I wish to return to my father who requires my services."
The guerilla laughed, now angered by her manner.
"Well, I thought I'd tell you who I was so you wouldn't try any high and mighty business," he said coarsely, and eying her fiercely. "That ain't the sort o' thing that goes with me, an' yer ain't the first one I've taken down a peg or two. However, I don't mean you no harm, only you'd better behave yourself. Yer know that man over there, don't yer?"
He indicated with a nod of the head, and Claire glanced in that direction, but without speaking.
"Well, can't you answer?"
"I recognize Captain Grant, if that is what you mean."
"I was speaking English, wasn't I? Yer ought ter know him—yer engaged ter him, ain't yer?"
"Certainly not," indignantly.
Grant turned about, his face twitching.
"This is not my fault, Claire," he exclaimed swiftly. "Don't blame me for it. I am also a prisoner, and helpless."