t," said Tudor. "But--it is quite unnecessary. I do not
misunderstand."

He spoke deliberately and coldly. But Phil clenched his hands. The words
cut him like a whip.

"You refuse to believe me?" he said.

Tudor did not answer.

"I must trouble you for an answer," Phil said, forcing himself to speak
quietly.

"As you please," said Tudor, in the same cold tone. "I have a question
to put first. Had I not chanced to see what took place, would you have
sought this interview?"

The blood rose in a hot wave to Phil's head, but he did not wince or
hesitate.

"Of course I shouldn't," he said.

Tudor made a curt gesture as of dismissal.

"Out of your own mouth--" he said, and turned contemptuously away.

Phil stood quite still for the space of ten seconds, then the young
blood in him suddenly mounted to fever pitch. He strode up to his major,
and seized him fiercely by the shoulder.

"I won't bear this from any man," he said between his teeth. "I am as
honourable as you are! If you say--or insinuate--otherwise, I--by
Heaven--I'll kill you!"

The passionate words ceased, and there followed a silence more terrible
than any speech. Tudor stood absolutely motionless, facing the young
subaltern who towered over him, without a sign of either anger or
dismay.

Then at last, very slowly and quietly, he spoke:

"You have made a mistake. Take your hand away."

Phil's hand dropped to his side. He was white to the lips. Yet he would
not relinquish his purpose at a word.

"It hasn't been for my own sake," he said, his voice still shaking with
the anger he could not subdue.

Tudor made no response. He stood with his eyes fixed steadily upon
Phil's agitated face. And, as if compelled by that searching gaze, Phil
reiterated the assertion.

"If I had only had myself to consider," he said, "I shouldn't
have--stooped--to offer an explanation."

"Let me remind you," Tudor said quietly, "that I have not asked for
one."

"You prefer to misunderstand?" said Phil quickly.

"I prefer to take my own view," amended Tudor. "If you are wise--you
will be satisfied to leave it so."

It was final, and, though far from satisfied, Phil felt the futility of
further discussion. He turned to the door.

"Very well, sir," he said briefly, and went out, holding his head high.

As for Tudor, he sat down again before his writing-table with an unmoved
countenance, and after a short interval took up his correspondence.
There was no anger