There was a half-hour of anecdotes of the Governor of Momba and his son before Cunningham's name was even mentioned; and when the question of him was slipped, so casually was it slipped that I, with senses astretch, did not realize that this must be the sick man at Momba--not until the next question was put. "But there must have been something else, Rimmle, between the Governor and Cunningham?" Now, had they been drinking ordinary wine or heavy ale, Rimmle might have held his own. But this was a rare vintage, a delicate bouquet meant for a finer breed than Rimmle. His tongue was still limber but his wits were fled. He was vain to display to the famous Captain Blaise his knowledge of secret affairs. "Yes, it is true, Captain, there was more than showed on the surface there. And that insult to Cunningham was no accident. No,"--he winked,--"not at all. He had insulted and shot men before, but he never knew that Cunningham was a professional duellist himself. None of us in Momba knew. Did you, Captain?" "He was not." Captain Blaise banged his hand on the table. "He killed three men, yes; but bad men, and killed them in fair combat." "Hm-m. A man to let alone that; but nothing of that was known--not then. However, he took the Governor's professional duellist out behind a row of palms one sunny morning and shot him--a beautiful bit of work. It was the vastest surprise--a shock. But a duel, lawful possibly in your country is not so in ours, Captain, and--" "And is his daughter with him?" "When she is not at the Governor's house--yes." "What! Why there?" "I don't know, unless it is the only house in that country where a young lady of her position--and then her beauty--" "Under that old satrap's roof? But here, Rimmle, what is the Governor going to do with Cunningham?" "Well, Captain, if it should happen that she will marry the Governor's son, why Cunningham might be allowed--you know how, Captain, ho! ho!--surely, to escape. Especially as nobody seems to mourn the man he shot. But when she seemed slow to fall in with their wishes, and as Cunningham had converted all his property into gold and diamonds and shipped them or hid them--though no search has unearthed them--preparatory to shooting the Governor's friend, why they grew suspicious and threatened to push matters. Cunningham was nominally under arrest always. And then he fell sick. How sick? Hard to say. But should he die, or be punished--imprisoned, say--for the duel, consider it. She is a beautiful girl, true, but human, and in time in that lonesome country where white gentlemen of social position are so scarce--! And, after all--the Governor of Momba's son and--" "Rimmle"--Captain Blaise had stood up to look through an air port--"it's a fair wind for me. Shall I put you ashore?"