“I do not understand,” declared Lord Mallow tartly. “Ah, wasn’t there some difference over his going for the treasure to Haiti? Some one told me, I think, that you were not in favour of his getting his ticket-of-leave, or whatever it is called, and that the provost-marshal gave it to him, as he had the right to do.”
“You have wide sources of information in this case. I wonder—”
“No, your honour need not wonder. I was told that by a gentleman on the steamer coming here. He was a native of the island, I think—or perhaps it was the captain, or the mate, or the boatswain. I can’t recall. Or maybe it came to me from my manager, Darius Boland, who hears things wherever he is, one doesn’t know how; but he hears them. He is to me what your aide-de-camp is to you,” she nodded towards a young man near by at the table.
“And do you dress your Darius Boland as I dress my aide in scarlet, with blue facings and golden embroidery, and put a stiff hat with a feather on his head?”
“But no, he does not need such things. I am a Republican now. I am a citizen of the United States, where men have no need of uniform to tell the world what they are. You shall see my Darius Boland—indeed, you have seen him. He was there to-day when you gave me the distinction of your presence.”
“That dry, lean, cartridge of a fellow, that pair of pincers with a face!”
“And a tongue, your honour. If you did not hear it yet, you will hear it. He is to be my manager here. So he will be under your control—if I permit him.”
“If you permit him, mistress?”
“If I permit him, yes. You are a power, but you are not stronger than the laws and rules you make. For instance, there was the case of Mr. Dyck Calhoun. When he came, you were for tying him up in one little corner of this island—the hottest part, I know, near to Kingston, where it averages ninety degrees in the shade at any time of the year. But the King you represent had not restricted his liberties so, and you being the King, that is, yourself, were forced to abide by your own regulations. So it may be the same with Darius Boland. He may want something, and you, high up, looking down, will say, ‘What devilry is here!’ and decline. He will then turn to your chief-justice or provost-marshal-general, or a deputy of the provost-marshal, and they will say that Darius Boland shall have what he wants, because it is the will of the will you represent.”
Almost the last words the governor used to her were these: “Those only live at peace here who are at peace with me”; and her reply had been: “But Mr. Dyck Calhoun lives at peace, does he not, your honour?”