“What I want to know,” he broke out, “is where the devil Mr. Cassilis
comes from, and what the devil Mr. Cassilis is doing here. You say you
are married; that I do not believe. If you were, Graden Floe would soon
divorce you; four minutes and a half, Cassilis. I keep my private
cemetery for my friends.”
“It took somewhat longer,” said I, “for that Italian.”
He looked at me for a moment half daunted, and then, almost civilly,
asked me to tell my story. “You have too much the advantage of me,
Cassilis,” he added. I complied of course; and he listened, with
several ejaculations, while I told him how I had come to Graden: that
it was I whom he had tried to murder on the night of landing; and what
I had subsequently seen and heard of the Italians.
“Well,” said he, when I had done, “it is here at last; there is no
mistake about that. And what, may I ask, do you propose to do?”
“I propose to stay with you and lend a hand,” said I.
“You are a brave man,” he returned, with a peculiar intonation.
“I am not afraid,” said I.
“And so,” he continued, “I am to understand that you two are married?
And you stand up to it before my face, Miss Huddlestone?”
“We are not yet married,” said Clara; “but we shall be as soon as we
can.”
“Bravo!” cried Northmour. “And the bargain? D—n it, you’re not a fool,
young woman; I may call a spade a spade with you. How about the
bargain? You know as well as I do what your father’s life depends upon.
I have only to put my hands under my coat-tails and walk away, and his
throat would he cut before the evening.”
“Yes, Mr. Northmour,” returned Clara, with great spirit; “but that is
what you will never do. You made a bargain that was unworthy of a
gentleman; but you are a gentleman for all that, and you will never
desert a man whom you have begun to help.”
“Aha!” said he. “You think I will give my yacht for nothing? You think
I will risk my life and liberty for love of the old gentleman; and
then, I suppose, be best man at the wedding, to wind up? Well,” he
added, with an odd smile, “perhaps you are not altogether wrong. But
ask Cassilis here. _He_ knows me. Am I a man to trust? Am I safe and
scrupulous? Am I kind?”
“I know you talk a great deal, and sometimes, I think, very foolishly,”
replied Clara, “but I know you are a gentleman, and I am not the least
afraid.”
He looked at her with a peculiar approval and admiration; then, turning
to me, “Do you think I would give her up without a struggle, Frank?”
said he. “I tell you plainly, you look out. The next time we come to
blows—”
“Will make the third,” I interrupted, smiling.
“Aye, true; so it will,” he said. “I had forgotten. Well, the third
time’s lucky.”
“The third time, you mean, you will have the crew of the _Red Earl_ to
help,” I said.
“Do you hear him?” he asked, turning to my wife.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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