"Well—you must have your will, then," said Crankey Jem; and, turning to the cupboard, he proceeded to load the pistols.
But still he was not altogether satisfied!
Holford rose from his seat with an assumed air of indifference, and approached the table where the little models of the ships were standing.
A few minutes thus elapsed in profound silence.
"They're all ready now," said Jem, at length; "and as your friends don't know how to load them, it's no use your taking the powder and ball. I suppose they'll fire a shot each, and have done with it?"
"I suppose so," returned Holford, as he concealed the pistols about his person. "I shall see you again presently. Good bye till then."
"Good bye," said Jem.
But scarcely had Holford left the room a minute, when the returned convict followed him.
The fact was that there shot forth a gleam of such inexpressible satisfaction from Holford's eyes, at the moment when he grasped the pistols, that the vague suspicions which had already been floating in the mind of Crankey Jem seemed suddenly to receive confirmation—or at least to be materially strengthened; and he feared lest his young friend meditated self-destruction.
"The pistols are of no use to him," muttered Jem, as he hastened down the stairs, slouching his large hat over his eyes; "but if he is bent on suicide, the river is not far off. I don't like his manner at all!"