That impulse to deliver the papers to Marston was then not so insistent; even Mayo's rising anger did not prompt him to do that. The wreck of a man's life and hopes dismissed flippantly as petty details!
“Seeing that I am not able to deal with you on a business man's basis, I shall handle you as I would handle any other thief.”
Mayo turned to leave, afraid of his own desperate desire to beat that sneering mouth into shapelessness.
At the head of the companionway stood half a dozen sailors, armed with iron grate-bars.
“If those papers are on you, I'm going to have them,” stated the financier. “If they are not on you, you'll be glad to tell me where they are before I get done with you.”
The captive halted between the master and the vassals.
“I'm going to crucify my feelings a little more, Mayo,” stated Marston. “Step forward here where those men can't hear. It's important.”
Marston knocked softly on a stateroom door and his daughter came forth. She gasped when she saw this ragged visitor, and in her stare there was real horror.
“I haven't been able to sift this thing to the bottom. By facing you two, as I'm doing, I may be able to get the truth of the case,” said Marston, with the air of a magistrate dealing with malefactors. “Now, Alma, I'll allow you a minute or two to use your tongue on this fine specimen before my men use their bars.”
“I heard what my father offered you. You must take it.”