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| The Angel Of The Revolution | George Chetwynd Griffith |
At Close Quarters |
Page 6 of 6 |
"How do you come to be the bearer of it, sir? Please answer me that first." "I am a prisoner of war. I surrendered to save the Arsenal and perhaps Petersburg from destruction under circumstances which I cannot now explain"-- "Thank you, sir, that is quite enough! A pretty story, truly! And you ask me to believe this, and to give up that priceless air-ship on such grounds as these--a story that would hardly deceive a child? You captured nine of the Tsar's war-balloons this morning, had an interview with his Majesty, got this letter from him at Cüstrin--more than five hundred miles away, and bring it here, and it is barely two in the afternoon! "No, gentlemen, I am too old a sailor to be taken in by a yarn like that. I believe this letter to be a forgery, and I will not give the air-ship up on its authority." "That is your last word, is it?" asked Mazanoff, white with passion, but still forcing himself to speak coolly. "That is my last word, sir, save to tell you that if you do not haul that flag you are masquerading under down at once I will fire upon you," shouted the Admiral, tearing the Tsar's letter into fragments as he spoke. "If I haul that flag down it will be the signal for the airships up yonder to open fire upon you, so your blood be on your own heads!" said Mazanoff, stamping thrice on the deck as he spoke. The propellers of the Ariel whirled round in a reverse direction, and she sprang swiftly back from the battleship, at the same time rising rapidly in the air. |
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The Angel Of The Revolution George Chetwynd Griffith |
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