"There will be a price; you are quick to jump to these conclusions," he agreed. "But I, dear friend, am the payee."
He nodded, favoring each of them with a glance in turn.
"Yes," he said. "That is the situation; please understand it. I am dictating terms, I. I am no longer the hunted, but the hunter. I have many debits in my mental ledger. I propose to collect them once and for all, in full."
The three regarded him without speaking, and he laughed again, amiably.
"Sister-in-law," he said, "your sex requires my first apologies. You must blame the wind, not me, for the discomforts of the night. While we remained within earshot of the land or of passing ships, your silence was overwhelmingly desirable. This applied to all three of you, and the contumacious wind forbore to rise. But the breeze of the last hour has given us an offing which frees you of all disabilities. Your bonds, to commence with."
He stooped and rapidly unlashed her wrists and ankles. He put out a hand to draw her to her feet.
With an uncontrollable gesture of repulsion, she waved it away and rose unsteadily, clinging to the bulkhead. She faced him.
"Have you never asked yourself what the end will be, the end of all this?" she said suddenly, fiercely. "You win a trick here and there; you reckon up the points; you mock your adversaries. Do you never give a thought to what the price, the ultimate price, must be?"
He looked at her—a look that held some curiosity—a tinge, indeed, of admiration.
"You are a little unexpected, my dear Claire," he answered. "Does not the more material question of food and drink engross you? Do you really wish to discuss abstractions?"