"You say I have distrusted you, that I have not admitted my identity as Carter. I don't care a rap for my life. I'm not fighting for that now. I have no designs on you or your designs. Let me put a hypothetical question: Suppose you had come to a point where your past life was nothing more to you than the life of another man--a man you hated as your deadliest enemy; suppose you lived in a world that was as different from the old one as though it had never existed; suppose a woman had guided you into that new world, would you, or would you not, turn your back on the old? Suppose you learned as suddenly as I learned, from you, on deck, that that woman was in danger, would you, or would you not, go to her?" Men rarely find the most eloquent or convincing words when they stand at sudden crises, but usually men's voices and manners at such times can have a force of convincing veracity that means more. Possibly, it may have been the hypnotic quality of Saxon's eyes, but, whatever it was, Rodman found it impossible to disbelieve him when he spoke in this fashion. In the plaza, he had suddenly turned the scales and held power of life and death over Rodman, and his only emotion had been that of heart-broken misery. Carter had been, like Rodman himself, the intriguer, but he had always been trustworthy with his friends. He had been violent, bitter, avenging, but never mean in small ways. That had been one of the reasons why Rodman, once convinced that the danger of vengeance was ended, had remained almost passionately anxious to prove to the other that he himself had not been a traitor. Carter had been the Napoleonic adventurer, and Rodman only the pettier type. For Carter, he held a sort of hero-worship. Rodman's methods were those of chicane, but rightly or wrongly he believed that he could read the human document. If this other man were telling the truth, and if love of a woman were his real motive, he could be stung into fury with a slur. If that were only a pretext, the other would not allow his resentment to imperil his plans--he would repress it, or simulate it awkwardly. "So," he commented satirically, "it's the good-looking young female that's got you buffaloed, is it? The warrior has been taken into camp by the squaw." The tone held deliberate intent to insult.