He hesitated.

Then in a voice that broke he asked: "What has he done to my Son ?" and stood breathless for the reply.
"Your Son, Sir?
Your Son is doing well.

So at least we gather." "Doing well ?" "He was wounded, Sir, yesterday.

Have you not heard ?" Redwood smote these pretences aside.

His voice was no longer coloured by fear, but by anger.