“I don't want to see it,” observed Forster. “I won't be troubled to-night. To-morrow, will be quite time enough. Keep it for me till then.”
“You will never see it,” cried Mackintosh. “I desire, madam, that the letter may be at once returned to me. If not, I shall be compelled to take it from you.”
“Am I to be exposed to this insult, general?” cried Mrs. Scarisbrick, indignantly.
“Certainly not,” replied Forster, rising from his seat—though not without some difficulty. “Brigadier, I must request you to retire.”
“I obey,” replied Mackintosh. “But understand that I will shoot this spy. I am satisfied of his guilt.”
“Do as you please,” said Forster. “Shoot half a dozen spies if you find them.”
“Nay, for Heaven's sake! don't let him shoot the man,” cried Mrs. Scarisbrick.
“Don't be alarmed,” said Forster, sitting down again.
“The man will only be kept in the guard-house to-night. I'll settle the matter to-morrow. Take some more champagne.”
Reassured by this promise, and having got the letter, Mrs. Scarisbrick said no more. But she had nothing to fear from poor Fairbrother.