Next instant the door opened. I saw the tail end of a flight of brick steps, and into the room rushed Marion Le Mar, followed less quickly by the surgeon, who stopped to lock the door behind him. The girl stopped midway on the floor. But I did not look at her. I was too deeply agitated, and I wished to gather up my strength for later use.
I heard Sir Charles repeat his question. Jussieu replied—"Master, he blasphemed, and I struck him on the mouth."
Pride of race is a curious thing. I found I could not argue with the negro, though he had lied.
The surgeon whipped his servant with a dozen scorching words, then strode beside my chair.
"For this insult, Hume," he said, "I offer you my sincere apologies. Such a thing will not occur again!"
"Give me another cup of wine," I cried, "and I'll forgive you."
Within a moment it was held up to my lips, and I drained it at one draught. I was passionately craving strength to show my hate to Marion. Heaven! How I hated her!
"More?" asked Sir Charles.
"No," I answered sullenly; my eyes fell upon the floor.
"Mademoiselle Le Mar denies that you gave her any packet, Hume?"