"I can quite imagine that he would be inconsolable indeed!" he said gallantly. "Fortunately, I was privileged to prevent such a calamity."
"Tell me again exactly how you did it," she said. "I never quite understood."
Peter again took refuge in a discreet vagueness.
"Oh," he replied, modestly, "there's not much to tell. I saw the—er—danger, and knew there wasn't a moment to lose; and then I sprang forward, and—well, you know the rest as well as I do!"
"You only just caught him as he was going up the rigging, didn't you?" she asked.
So it was the Judge he had saved—not his daughter! Peter felt a natural disappointment. But he saw the state of the case now: a powerful judicial intellect overstrained, melancholia, suicidal impulses—it was all very sad; but, happily, he had succeeded in saving this man to his country.
"I—ventured to detain him," he said, considerately, "seeing that he was—er—rather excited."
"But weren't you afraid he would bite you?"
"No," said Peter, pained at this revelation of the Judge's condition, "that possibility did not occur to me. In fact, I am sure that—er—though the strongest intellects are occasionally subject to attacks of this sort, he would never so far forget himself as to—er—bite a complete stranger."
"Ah!" she said, "you don't know what a savage old creature he can be sometimes. He never ought to be let loose; I'm sure he's dangerous!"