"Let us talk of the weather, Miles, or my mare. Anything rather than this painful subject."
With an impatient movement O'Hara flung back his chair and strode over to the window with his back to my lord. Jack's eyes followed him seriously.
"If ye cannot trust me, sure I've no more to say, thin!" flashed O'Hara. "It seems ye do not value your friends too highly!"
My lord said never a word. But the hand that rested on the desk clenched suddenly. O'Hara wheeled about and came back to his side.
"Sure, Jack, I never meant that! Forgive me bad temper!"
Carstares slipped off the table and straightened himself, linking his arm in the Irishman's.
"Whisht, Miles, as you'd say yourself," he laughed, "I know that. 'Tis not that I don't trust you, but—"
"I understand. I'll not ask ye any more about it at all. Instead, answer me this: what made ye come out with unloaded pistols?"
The laugh died out of Carstares' face.
"Oh, just carelessness!" he answered shortly, and he thought of the absent Jim with a tightening of the lips.