All Souls. His shirt front was ruffled, his white neckcloth awry, his pallid countenance betrayed a sensitive second-rate mind, not at unity with itself. He nodded sullenly to Logan: Bude he did not know.
‘Professor Jenkins, Mr. Jones Harvey,’ said the captain. ‘Sit down, sir. Take a drink; you seem to need one.’ Jenkins drained the tumbler, and sat with downcast eyes, his finger drumming nervously on the table.
‘Professor Jenkins, sir, I reckon you are the cause of the unparalleled disaster to this exploring expedition. Why did you bring these two natives of our territory on board, you well and duly knowing that the end would not justify the proceedings?’ A furtive glance from Jenkins lighted on the diamonds that sparkled in Logan’s ring. He caught Logan’s hand.
‘Traitor!’ he cried. ‘What will not scientific jealousy dare, that meanest of the passions!’
‘What the devil do you mean?’ said Logan angrily, wrenching his hand away.
‘You leave Mr. Logan alone, sir,’ said the captain. ‘I have two minds to put you in irons, Mr. Professor Jenkins. If you please, explain yourself.’
‘I denounce this man and his companion,’ said Jenkins, noticing a pearl ring on Bude’s finger; ‘I denounce them of conspiracy, mean conspiracy, against this expedition, and against the American flag.’
‘As how?’ inquired the captain, lighting a cigar with irritating calmness.
‘They wear these pearls, in which I had trusted for absolute security against the Berbalangs.’
‘Well, I wear one too,’ said the captain, pointing to the pin in his necktie. ‘Are you going to tell me that I am a traitor to the flag, sir? I warn you Professor, to be careful.’