"Very well," said Kentish. "They were dreadful people on the coach——"
"Are they waiting for you?" thundered Stingaree.
"No; they've gone on; and they think me mad."
"So you are."
"We shall see; meanwhile I prefer your company to theirs, and mean to enjoy it up to the moment of my murder."
For an instant Stingaree seemed on the brink of a smile; then his dark face hardened, and he tapped the long barrel in rest between his knees.
"You may call it murder if you like," said he. "That will not prevent me from shooting you dead unless you speak the truth. You have come for something; what is it?"
"I've told you already. I was bored and disgusted. That is the truth."
"But not the whole truth," cried Stingaree. "You had some other reason."
Kentish looked down without speaking. He heard the revolver cocked.