"Look to your ship, and I'll look to mine," snapped Flint, quaffing a wineglassful of the goblet's contents.
My uncle stared him straight in the eye with a hard, direct thrust of power which stirred my unwilling admiration.
"To whom do you owe your present position?" he asked coldly.
Flint made a patent attempt to stare him down, but abandoned the effort and looked away.
"Some might say one thing and some another," he muttered.
"To whom do you owe your present position, Flint?" repeated Murray.
"Oh, to you, most like," admitted Flint. "Blast you!"
"Have I ever led you into difficulties?" continued my great-uncle.
"Not if——"
"Have I ever led you into difficulties?"