Dead silence followed his words. The lamplight flickered on Dick's face, throwing into strong relief every set grim feature. His lips were tightly compressed—a single straight line across his stern face. His eyes never varied; they were almost unbearably bright. They held Saltash's with a tensity of purpose that was greater than any display of physical force. It was as if the two were locked in silent combat.
It lasted for many seconds, that mute and motionless duel, then very suddenly from a wholly unexpected quarter there came an interruption. Columbus, sensing trouble, pushed his stout person between the two men and leapt whining upon Dick, pawing at him imploringly with almost human entreaty.
It put an end to the tension. Dick looked down involuntarily and meeting the dog's beseeching eyes, relaxed in spite of himself. Saltash uttered a curt laugh and returned the revolver to his pocket.
"That settles that," he observed. "Columbus, my acknowledgments—though I am quite well aware that your eloquent appeal is not made on my behalf! You know what the little beggar is asking for, don't you?"
Dick laid a soothing hand on the grizzled head. "All right,
Columbus!" he said.
Saltash's smile leapt out again. "Oh, it's all right, is it? I am to have a free pardon then for boosting you over your last fence?"
Again Dick's eyes came to him, and a very faint, remote smile shone in them for an instant in answer. Then, very steadily, without a word, he held out his hand.
Saltash's came to meet it. They looked each other again in the eyes—but with a difference. Then Saltash began to laugh.
"Go to her, my cavalier! You'll find her—waiting—on the Night Moth."
"Waiting?" Dick said.