Elliott mixed an iced glass of water and lime juice, for the missionary would never touch spirits.
“Here, drink this, and try to brace up,” he said.
Laurie drank it like a docile child, and looked up with frightened eyes.
“I have done wrong,” he said, pathetically. “I have sinned often. I have fallen times past counting.”
“I know it,” said Elliott. “What have you been doing now?”
“The question is, what am I going to do?” replied the old man, with a flash of animation. “It has all been for her—whatever errors I have made. No one can say that I have ever profited by a dollar that was not honestly my own.”
“Well—all right. But for goodness’ sake try to tell me what Sevier was asking about.”
Laurie hesitated for a long time.
“It was about the ship—the Clara McClay” he produced, at last.
Elliott stared, speechless for a moment, shocked into utter bewilderment.