"A slander—upon your father!... Me?" said the indignant Peter. "Why, I never heard of the gentleman!"
"Denial will not serve you now," she said. "I have not only your own admissions in the music-room, but the evidence of more than one trustworthy witness, to prove that you circulated a report that my dear father—one of the most honoured and respected citizens of Melbourne—began his Colonial career as—as a transported convict!"
After all, as the hapless Peter instantly saw, he might have said so, for anything he knew, in one of those still unexhausted extra quarters of an hour!
"If I said so, I was misinformed," he said.
"Just so; and in our conversation on the subject, you mentioned the name of the person who used you as his mouthpiece to disseminate his malicious venom. What I wish to know now is, whether you are prepared or not to repeat that statement?"
Peter recollected now that he had used expressions implicating Mr. Perkins, although merely as the origin of totally different complications.
"I can't positively go so far as that," he said. "I—I made the statement generally."
"As you please," she said. "I can merely say that my brother, whom I expect momentarily, is, although an invalid in some respects, a powerful and determined man; and unless you repeat in his presence the sole excuse you have to offer, he will certainly horsewhip you in the presence of the other passengers. That is all, sir!"
"Thank you—it's quite enough!" murmured Peter, thinking that Alfred himself could hardly be much more formidable; and he slipped down the companion to the cabin-saloon, where he found Miss Davenport anxiously expecting him.
"He is here," she whispered. "I have just seen him through the port-hole."