‘Sir,’ said I, ‘I’m a British officer!’
‘It’s a lie!’ roared the other, ‘you’re a DESERTER! You’re an impostor, sir; I have known you for such these three hours. I suspected you yesterday. My men heard of a man escaping from Warburg, and I thought you were the man. Your lies and folly have confirmed me. You pretend to carry despatches to a general who has been dead these ten months: you have an uncle who is an ambassador, and whose name forsooth you don’t know. Will you join and take the bounty, sir; or will you be given up?’
‘Neither!’ said I, springing at him like a tiger. But, agile as I was, he was equally on his guard. He took two pistols out of his pocket, fired one off, and said, from the other end of the table where he stood dodging me, as it were,—
‘Advance a step, and I send this bullet into your brains!’ In another minute the door was flung open, and the two sergeants entered, armed with musket and bayonet to aid their comrade.
The game was up. I flung down a knife with which I had armed myself; for the old hag on bringing in the wine had removed my sword.
‘I volunteer,’ said I.
‘That’s my good fellow. What name shall I put on my list?’
‘Write Redmond Barry of Bally Barry,’ said I haughtily; ‘a descendant of the Irish kings!’
‘I was once with the Irish brigade, Roche’s,’ said the recruiter, sneering, ‘trying if I could get any likely fellows among the few countrymen of yours that are in the brigade, and there was scarcely one of them that was not descended from the kings of Ireland.’
‘Sir,’ said I, ‘king or not, I am a gentleman, as you can see.’