'Then are you of the League?' said Christian indifferently, nettling the other, still in the young pride of a desired association. The Alien at his best, he knew, would never have been reckoned fit; for though he excelled in strength, he lacked head.
'You and I together,' he said, 'are fairly equal to any other three, and so can our gains be the larger.'
Yet Christian would not readily close on the rich relief. He fixed on the other a thoughtful eye, pondering a question of fairness that might not be imparted. Philip flushed a little.
'I am answerable to the League,' he said nervously; 'and though from outsiders we exact oaths, I will take it upon me to accept as sufficient your bare word for good faith and secrecy.'
This was no more than Christian's credit had established; for from boyhood, under the strict schooling of Lois, he had kept to his word as sacredly as others to their oaths, and from pride and a scruple had ever refused to be sworn.
Long seemed the pause and the trying scrutiny before Christian sighed and said, 'So be it.'
'And secrecy?'
'I promise secrecy.'
'And you will not refuse a strict promise to obey orders—mine?'
A vague foreboding warned Christian to stay, but reason could not sufficiently uphold it against his dire need of the gold. He promised.