“Me, or directions from me. By the way, bring money too. There’s never any harm in having a full pocket. I wonder what the devil does without a breeches-pocket?”
Rischenheim let that curious speculation alone, although he remembered the whimsical air with which Rupert delivered it. He was now on fire to be gone, his ill-balanced brain leaping from the depths of despondency to the certainty of brilliant success, and not heeding the gulf of danger that it surpassed in buoyant fancy.
“We shall have them in a corner, Rupert,” he cried.
“Ay, perhaps. But wild beasts in a corner bite hard.”
“I wish my arm were well!”
“You’ll be safer with it wounded,” said Rupert with a smile.
“By God, Rupert, I can defend myself.”
“True, true; but it’s your brain I want now, cousin.”
“You shall see that I have something in me.”
“If it please God, dear cousin.”