Behind the Throne. William Le Queux
by whom!”
“I have no further time to waste upon hearing any counter-charges,” abruptly answered the Minister. “From to-day you are dismissed the army in disgrace. My decree will appear in to-night’s Gazette, and, General Valentini,” he added meaningly, turning to the stern old officer who had writhed beneath the civilian’s rebuke, “convey your prisoner back to Turin, and do not again become the gaoler of a traitor.”
“You absolutely refuse to hear me further, then!” cried the captain in wild desperation, dismayed to find that all attempt to clear his character had failed.
“I do.”
The accused man with set teeth drew his sword, and with one quick wrench across his knee broke the gleaming blade and cast it ringing upon the marble floor.
“Take my sword!” he cried, drawing himself up to the salute. “Take my honour—take my life! But you—even you, Camillo Morini—cannot condemn me with justice! One day you shall know that I am innocent—you hear!—innocent!”
And with firm tread he strode out of the Minister’s private room, followed by his general, who merely saluted in stiff silence, his scabbard trailing upon the marble.
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