“Dead?” shrieked Adrian.
“He is with the God whom he served!”
“He was always with Him, like Enoch: parable me no parables, if you love me, sir!”
“And, like Enoch, he was not; for God took him.”
Adrian clasped his hands over his forehead, and leaned against the table.
“Go on, sir, go on. God will give me strength to hear all.”
And gradually Amyas opened to Adrian that tragic story, which Mr. Hayes has long ago told far too well to allow a second edition of it from me: of the unruliness of the men, ruffians, as I said before, caught up at hap-hazard; of conspiracies to carry off the ships, plunder of fishing vessels, desertions multiplying daily; licenses from the general to the lazy and fearful to return home: till Adrian broke out with a groan—
“From him? Conspired against him? Deserted from him? Dotards, buzzards! Where would they have found such another leader?”
“Your illustrious brother, sir,” said Amyas, “if you will pardon me, was a very great philosopher, but not so much of a general.”
“General, sir? Where was braver man?”