Trodger laid down their muskets and turned on them. ‘There’s a surgeon on his way, and my men are under orders to do whatever is needful. I defy you to explain it away. Moving swiftly to the end of the corridor, he pushed open a door at random and entered a large room, which looked to have been a saloon, judging from the faded gilt and crimson wall-paper, a mirror above the fireplace which was surrounded by an ornate gilded frame, now sadly tarnished, and a worn Chippendale sofa with striped upholstery and tasselled cushions. "I will have no satisfaction but his life.
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