“That,” Brereton returned, with the same shrewd look, “is just what I do consider! Without me they cannot act! They cannot venture. And I—go to bed!”
He chuckled at it, as at a jest; and Vaughan, checked by the oddity of his manner, and with a growing suspicion in his mind, knew not what to think. For answer, at last, “I fear that you will not be able to go to bed, Colonel Brereton,” he said gravely, “when the moment comes to face the consequences.”
“The consequences?”
“You cannot think that a city such as this can be destroyed, and no one be called to account?”
“But the civil power——”
“Is impotent!” Vaughan answered, with returning indignation, “in the face of the disorder now prevailing! I warn you! A little more delay, a little more license, let the people’s passions be fanned by farther impunity, and nothing, nothing, I warn you, Colonel Brereton,” he continued with emphasis, “can save the major part of the city from destruction!”
Brereton rose to his feet, a certain wildness in his aspect. “Good God!” he exclaimed. “You don’t mean it! Do you really mean it, Vaughan? But—but what can I do?” He sank down on the bed again, and stared at his companion. “Eh? What can I do? Nothing!”
“Everything!”
He sprang to his feet. “Everything! You say everything?” he cried, and his tone rose shrill and excited. “But you don’t know!” he continued, lowering his voice as quickly as he had raised it and laying his hand on Vaughan’s sleeve—“you don’t know! You don’t know! But I know! Man, I was set in command here on purpose. If I acted they counted on putting the blame on me. And if I didn’t act—they would still put the blame on me.”
His cunning look shocked Vaughan.