The doctor lunged forward in his seat, his eyes staring straight at the captain. Had the old sailor struck him in the face he could not have been more astounded.
"His child!" he cried savagely.
"Certainly! Whose else is it? You knew, didn't ye?"
The doctor settled back in his chair with the movement of an ox felled by a sudden blow. With the appalling news there rang in his ears the tones of his mother's voice retailing the gossip of the village. This, then, was what she could not repeat.
After a moment he raised his head and asked in a low, firm voice:
"Did Bart go to Paris after he left here?"
"No, of course not! Went 'board the Corsair bound for Rio, and has been there ever since. I told you that before. There weren't no necessity for her to meet him in Paris."
The doctor sprang from his chair and with eyes biasing and fists tightly clenched, stood over the captain.
"And you dare to sit there and tell me that Miss Jane Cobden is that child's mother?"
The captain struggled to his feet, his open hands held up to the doctor as if to ward off a blow.