Bradish followed suit, and shook hands with Barnstable, and Harbinger after him.
"You're all right, Barnstable," Bradish observed; "but what are we to do with the Count?"
"Oh, that ass!" Jack responded. "I'd like to help duck him in a horse-pond; but of course as he didn't write the book, Mr. Barnstable won't mind apologizing for a hasty word said by mistake. Any gentleman would do that."
"Of course if you think it's all right," Barnstable said, "I'd rather apologize; but I'd rather fight than have any doubt about the way I feel toward the whelp that libelized my wife."
Jack took him by the shoulder, and spoke to him with a certain slow distinctness such as one might use in addressing a child.
"Do have some common sense about this, Barnstable," he said. "Do get it out of your head that the man who wrote that book knew anything about your affairs. I've told you that already."
"I told him too," put in Harbinger.
"I suppose you know," Barnstable replied, shaking his head; "but it is strange how near it fits!"
Bradish took Barnstable off to the writing room to pen a suitable apology to the Count, and Jack and Harbinger remained behind.
"Extraordinary beggar," observed Jack, when they had departed.