"This gentleman is a chamberlain to King James, Robert," he remarked, "a Knight of Malta and of Santiago in Spain, a colonel of Spanish engineers and lord of I know not how many bog-manors in Ireland if he had his rights. And look at him!"
He was not a pleasant sight, I'll own; but my redoubtable relative's perpetual air of omniscience grated upon me.
"Who brought him to this?" I retorted.
"Not I, my boy! To intrigue is not necessarily to license appetite. Well, well, 'tis doubtly fortunate I induced him to fetch along the little maid."
"'Twas well nigh your most dastardly act!"
He took snuff, deliberately pondering the charge, and despite the toil of the day his face preserved its uncanny fulness of outline.
"The appearances are against me," he answered. "Yet I am inclined to believe that in the long run you will concede I acted for the best. Consider her plight in a Spanish convent, if anything happened to her father."
"Consider her plight in a pirate ship, if anything happened to him!" I jeered.
He appealed to Peter, whimsically humorous.
"Stap me, the boy wears upon my nerves! Was ever a youth so callow in his assurance of righteousness?"