“I can do nothing but surrender, monsieur,” said I civilly, “under the conclusive arbitrament of your muskets. Here is my sword.” He took it, and I went on:
“I am Captain Paul Grande, of the French army in Canada.”
His face changed.
“A spy, then!” he said harshly.
“You insult with impunity,” I began. “An unarmed”—
But Yvonne broke in, her eyes flaming:
“How dare you, sir, insult me? That is not to be done with impunity, I think.”
The man looked puzzled. Then his face cleared somewhat.
“I beg your pardon, mademoiselle,” he said slowly, looking from her face to mine. “I begin to understand a little, I think. There is a very sufficient reason why a French officer might appear in an enemy’s country without his uniform—that country being Grand Pré—and yet be no spy!”
“I give you my word of honour,” said I, “that I am no spy, but merely your prisoner. And if brought to trial I will prove what I say.”