“We are prepared—I speak for my daughter as well as for myself—to obey any orders that you have a right to give, young man.”
“You misunderstand me,” answered Cunningham. “I am offering you the opportunity to serve the Company. As the Company's senior officer in the neighborhood, I am responsible to the Company for such orders as I see fit to give. I could not have my orders questioned. I don't mind telling you that I'm asking you, as British subjects, no more than I intend to ask Alwa and his Rangars. You can do as much as they are going to be asked to do. You can't do more. But you can do less if you like. You are being given the opportunity now to offer your services unconditionally—that is to say in the only manner in which I will accept them. Otherwise you will remain non-combatants, and I shall take such measures for your safety as I see fit. Time presses. Your answer, please!”
“I will obey your legal orders,” said McClean, still making full use of the lantern.
“I refuse to admit the qualification,” answered Cunningham promptly. “Either you will obey, or you will not. You are asked to say which, that is all.”
“I will obey,” said Rosemary McClean quietly. She said it through straight lips and in a level voice that carried more assurance than a string of loud-voiced oaths.
“And you, sir?”
“Since my daughter sees fit to—ah—capitulate, I have no option.”
“Be good enough to be explicit.”
“I agree to obey your orders.”
“Thank you.” He seemed to have finished with McClean. He turned away from him and faced Rosemary, not troubling to examine her face closely as he had done her father's, but seeming none the less to give her full attention. “I understood you to say that you promised to help Prince Jaimihr to escape from his cell tonight?”