“Yes; and it is almost a pity the brute did not kill me,” said Artingale, coolly.
“Harry!”
“Well, if he had, the police would have hunted the scoundrel down, then he would have been hung, and little Julie could have rested in peace.”
“And Cynthia?” said Magnus, with a sad smile.
“Ah, yes! poor little darling, she would have broken her heart. But I say, old fellow, it’s a pity the scoundrel got away. What are we to do?”
“He must be taken,” exclaimed Magnus, “at any cost. It was a murderous attempt on your life.”
“Humph! yes, but he might swear that I tried to throw him over first. It was a fight, old fellow, and I got the worst of it.”
“But he must be taken.”
“No,” said Artingale, “I think not, old fellow; his is a peculiar case, and we can’t be going into witness-boxes and answering all sorts of questions. After to-day’s adventure down below on the beach, I don’t see that we can move. No, Magnus, there are things that must be hushed up, and this is one of them. But we must do something. I declare I’ll mount a revolver, and have a shot at the brute if he annoys them again, legal or illegal.”
“Impossible,” said Magnus, bitterly.