Arrison, still confused in intellect, and not yet comprehending the truth, had seized his comrade, by instinct, on finding the refugee so near Kate’s chamber.
“Ha! ha!” continued the youth, unable to restrain his merriment, “to think she’s flown, after I nailed fast her window too.”
“Who’s flown?” angrily cried Arrison, shaking the youth violently; while, with an oath, he added, as he now first observed the open door, “You don’t mean to say Miss Aylesford’s gone.”
The youth stopped laughing, and breaking loose by a sudden effort, answered, with a flushed and angry face,
“Take care who you collar, Captain; I’m not a nigger.” And as Arrison rushed into the chamber, he muttered, sulkily, “I’m not sorry she’s gone; for he was goin’ to make all for himself there was to be made; takin’ the oyster and leaving us the shell.”
A rapid glance satisfied Arrison that his prey had really escaped, and he came back, perfectly white with rage, just in time to hear the concluding murmurs of the youth, though without being able to make out what was being said.
“What’s that you’re muttering, you mutinous rascal?” he shouted, darting on the speaker. “I believe you had a hand in it. She couldn’t have got off alone.”
The youth sprang nimbly to one side, just in time to elude the grasp of his enraged leader, and interposing the table between himself and Arrison, drew his knife.
“Keep off,” he cried, “or I’ll drive this into you, Captain or no Captain. Say that again, if you dare. It was your own stupidity, in getting drunk, not drawing the bolt on this side, and sleeping like a log of wood, that let the girl off.”
He flourished his weapon as he spoke, and glared at Arrison with such savageness, that the latter, heated as he was with passion, paused. Before either could make any new movement, and while they watched each other like two angry tigers, the lieutenant, whom we have seen so active the preceding day, rushed between them.