“Don’t want—make trouble,” he thought. “If Joey likes the fellow—”
A clear moment came to him.
“You’ll never stop now!” he said to himself. “You’ll never do anything for any one now! ’Nother whisky!” he cried aloud, with a sob.
He saw James Vincey stumbling through the rest of his days, a cruel burden to his mother, a disgrace to Joey—ruining Joey’s life before it had well begun. He knew Joey. If it came to a choice between himself and that young prig, Joey would stand by her uncle.
And it had come to a choice. Joey would let Napier see what she thought of his turning her uncle out of the office!
As he was going out, somebody called Napier into the billiard room and held him in conversation for a few moments; and when at last he left the club, he saw Cap[Pg 533]tain Vincey going down the hill before him, reeling a little.
It was not pleasant for Napier to pass Miss Craig’s uncle, but he did not slacken his pace. He was going to be here, on a small island, with Captain Vincey, for a good long while. Inevitably he would have to meet the man often. The same quality which had enabled Mark Napier to face danger and death and agony, to make his way in the world quite alone, made it impossible to shirk any unpleasantness. He went on down the hill and passed Vincey with a curt good night.
“A fine lad!” thought Vincey. “A fine, strong, clean lad!”
For though Captain Vincey’s steps were so uncertain, his brain was very clear now.
Napier had turned the corner, and was walking rapidly along the street that fronted the harbor, when he heard a splash. He stopped and turned his head. The shops were all closed, and there was not a soul in sight. There was not a sound—not a sound of those stumbling footsteps that had been following his own.