“Stewart gave a laugh of such coarse brutality that one longed to kick him.
“‘No,’ he said, contemptuously, ‘hardly! I fancy she’s taken a bit of a liking to me.’ There was no braggadocio mixed with his brutality, Doctor; in fact, he colored as he said this and seemed embarrassed. I believe that he was telling the truth.
“‘In that case,’ replied the Count, thoughtfully, and his face resumed its former expression of indulgence, ‘why do you not return with her?’ He leaned back in his chair, brought the tips of his fingers together, rested his chin on the indices and looked cordially at Stewart, who was staring at him in angry bewilderment. ‘You have been acting under a misconception, Mr. Stewart. I find you agreeable; you have done much to relieve my ennui; besides this, you appear to be necessary to the contentment of Madame the Countess.’ He was putting Stewart with the servants, you see, Doctor, or lower. ‘Go fetch the Countess,’ he continued, briskly, ‘and we will forget this folly; we will take our dear friend Dr. Leyden to Singapore. If it is that you cannot afford to lose the time from your affairs, I will make you my secretary at a salary of your own choosing.’
“Stewart for the moment was stricken dumb, too utterly amazed to speak; then the blood came pouring into his florid face and his eyes narrowed to mere slits—and then I grieve to say that all of his blackguardism came ripping out. He cursed the Count, the Countess, the schooner, himself; in fact, he gave such an exhibition of savage and unbridled rage as I have never seen before but once. You see, Doctor, the man was sufficiently intelligent to appreciate that he was several very undesirable things—a scoundrel, an ass, and an object, as it appeared to him, of such utter contempt to this French nobleman as to be quite beneath his resentment—and he felt that when a man’s behavior crawled beneath the contempt of a Frenchman he was quite a way down! As Stewart read it, and I wonder to this day if he was right, he represented a toy to be purchased for the amusement of a pet—a sort of sub-plaything.
“As all of this struck Stewart in a sort of final, knockout insult he leaped up so suddenly as to capsize his chair and rushed from the cabin, a stream of curses standing out behind him like the tail of a comet.
“I glanced at the Count to see how he had stood the shock of the interview, and, would you believe it, Doctor, his face wore the flush of actual health and there was an entirely new glow in the depths of his lustrous eyes. His valet was standing at his elbow, and he leaned back and said a quick word, which I did not catch. The man slipped into the pantry and I heard him skipping up the ladder to the deck.
“The Count looked at me. ‘The canaille!’ he said. ‘I knew that he was theoretically a scoundrel, but I did not suspect that he was the low-bred pig which he has proved himself. He once told me that his father was a lord; if so, his mother must have been a fish-wife!... Ah!’
“I sprang to my feet, for there came from above the sounds of a most terrific struggle, the impact of wicked blows, hoarse bellows of rage; then there was a crash, followed by silence, save for labored breathings.
“‘Sit down, Doctor, I beg of you!’ exclaimed the Count, and there was a note of apology in his voice. ‘It has seemed best to me to detain this fellow until we are able to obtain custody of the Countess. A deplorable state of affairs’—he spread both hands palm downward in front of him—‘but what is one to do? Have I not offered this young man every courtesy—every hospitality? Yet you have heard his insults. Evidently he came aboard because he was anxious to be rid of the Countess.’ (It is my private belief, Doctor, that the scoundrel had some design of selling her back to her husband.) ‘He has taxed my forbearance excessively——’
“‘What shall you do with him?’ I inquired.