“Gentlemen, as I was venturing to say—­” Really the pause had been imperceptible:  “From the vicar downwards, there’s many would have spoke to my credit—­if I’d asked them.  And I did not ask them—­and for why?”

“Well, why?”

“Because,” said Dale, with a brave effort, “I relied implicitly on the fair play that would be meted out here.  From the hour I knew I was to be heard at headquarters, I said this is now between me and headquarters, and I don’t require any one—­be it the highest in the land—­coming between us.”

“Ah, I understand,” said the Colonel, with great politeness.

“Such was my confident feeling, sir—­my full confidence that, having heard me, you’d bear me out as doing my duty, and no more nor no less than my duty.”

Yet, even as he said so, his whole brain seemed as if fumes from some horrid corrosive acid were creeping through and through it.  In truth, all his confidence had gone, and only his courage remained.  These men were hostile to him; they had prejudged him; their deadly politeness and their airs of suave impartiality could not conceal their abominable intentions.  He had trusted them, and they were going to show themselves unworthy of trust.

“Gentlemen,” he said the word very loudly, and again there came the check to the sequence of his ideas.  In another whirl of thought he remembered those courtyards at the Abbey House, the loyal service of his wife’s family, the great personage who might have spoken up for him.  Oh, why hadn’t he allowed Mavis to write a second time imploring aid?  “Gentlemen—­” He echoed the word twice, and then was able to go on.  “My desire has ever bin to conduct the service smooth and expeditious, and in strict accordance with the regulations—­more particularly as set out in the manual, which I can truly ass-ass-assev’rate that I read more constant and careful than what I do the Bible.”

He knew that the crisis was close upon him.  Now or never he must speak the words that should convince and prevail; and instinct told him that he would speak in vain.  Nevertheless, he succeeded in stimulating himself adequately for the last great effort.  He would fight game and he would die game.

“If,” he said stoutly, “I am at liberty now to make my plain statement of the facts, I do so.  It was seven-thirty-five P.M.  Miss Yorke was at the instrument.  I was here”—­and he moved a step away.  “The soldier was there;” and he pointed.  “The soldier began his audacity by—­”

“But, good gracious,” said Sir John, “you are going back to the very beginning.”

“For your proper understanding,” said Dale, with determination, “I must commence at the commencement.  If, as promised, I am to be heard—­”

“But you have been heard.”

“Your pardon, sir.  You have examined me, but I have made no statement.”

“Oh, very well.”  Sir John, as well as the other two, assumed an attitude of patient boredom.  “Fire ahead, then, Mr. Dale.”