He bit his lip till
the blood showed upon it in a thin red line.
'You will sing a different song when you stand before the muzzles of the
firing party,' he said in a grating voice.
Von Steegman, who seemed to be the only man among them to remain quite
unmoved, raised his hand.
'All this is highly irregular,' he said harshly. 'Captain Hartmann, it is
our duty to interrogate these prisoners.'
'What's the use of interrogating us if you have already made up your mind
to shoot us?' retorted Ken.
Von Steegman glared at him.
'Because,' he answered in his harsh German English, 'it is bossible that,
by giving us certain information, you may yed save der lives which you haf
justly forfeited.'
Ken stared back, and there was something in his face which made even the
German's bold eyes drop.
'I don't advise you to say any more,' he answered grimly. 'You'd better
proceed at once with your firing party, you miserable German murderer.'
Von Steegman's hand dropped to his sword hilt, his face went the colour of
a ripe plum, for a moment Ken thought--hoped that he was going to have a
fit.
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