“Oh, don’t mind me!” came Sarde’s sarcastic interruption, and both of them turned round, startled, horrified, to face the officer of the guard, visiting round unattended. “You may well start—the pair of you,” said Inspector Sarde, his eyes glittering with rage, then with bitter sarcasm he went on; “A husband’s rights? Moonshine! Myths! Lies! Woman, get back to the fort at once, or I’ll have you arrested for being out of bounds.”
“But, Cuthbert,” she pleaded, “you don’t understand. This gentleman—”
“Go, I say; go! Leave me to settle with this—this gentleman!”
Poor Polly crept away, and the two men watched her in silence until she had turned the corner of the stockade.
“Ah!” the Blackguard laid his axe against the wall. “At last!”
“And now, mister gentleman, may I venture to ask what you’re doing outside your cell?”
“You may.”
“Stand to attention; call me ‘sir’ when you address an officer.”
“Dear, dear! I would shout, I would screech if I were you. Then everybody will hear.”
“The Commissioner shall hear.”