His voice had that soft quality peculiar to some big men.
"I am ready to sell my life for Miss Roscoe's safety, sir," he said.
Nick Ratcliffe jerked his shoulders expressively, but said nothing.

He was waiting for the General to speak.

As the latter rose slowly, with evident effort, from his chair, he thrust out a hand, as if almost instinctively offering help to one in sore need.
General Roscoe grasped it and spoke at last.

He had regained his self-command.

"Let me understand you, Ratcliffe," he said.