“Well, what of her?”
“Why, she has run off with the man who gave you that nasty cut across the forehead.”
“And who was he?”
“Why, that elegant young man Fumbleton.”
A terrible oath escaped from Phillip, and he rose to his feet, looking like a blood-stained demon.
“I will be revenged,” said he, “if it costs me my life!”
“And so you shall,” said Captain Jack, “if you only let the matter remain quietly for a short time. Fumbleton is rich, and can bear plucking.”
“He has been plucked many times, I hear,” said Phillip, “and on one occasion to the tune of £2,000.”
“I know he has. I was the one to do it,” said Captain Jack.
“You?”