“Stop!” I cried. “Where are you going?”
“Downstairs to tell them.”
“Tell them what?”
“That you’re going in with me, and it’s all right.”
“And do you really think I am?”
He had unlocked the door; after a pause I heard him lock it again. But I did not see his face until he returned to the bedside. And then it frightened me. It was distorted and discolored with rage and chagrin.
“You’ve been making a fool of me!” he cried fiercely.
“No, I have been considering the matter, Rattray.”
“And you won’t accept my offer?”
meats still lay as he and I had left them; his fingers, I remember, were playing with a crust, and his eyes fixed upon a distant door, as he leant back in his chair. Behind him hovered the nigger of the Lady Jermyn, whom I had been the slower to recognize, had not her skipper sat facing me on the squire’s