“By heavens, Wilder, you do me no more than justice. Before harm should come to that fair innocent with this hand would I put the match into the magazine, and send her, all spotless as she is, to the place from which she seems to have fallen.”
Our adventurer listened greedily to these words, though he little liked the strong language of admiration with which the Rover was pleased to clothe his generous sentiment.
“How knew you of my wish to serve them?” he demanded, after a pause, which neither seemed in any hurry to break.
“Could I mistake your language? I thought it enough when spoken.”
“Spoken!” exclaimed Wilder, in surprise. “Perhaps part of my confession was then made when I least believed it.”
The Rover did not answer; but his companion saw, by the meaning smile which played about his lip, that he had been the dupe of an audacious and completely successful masquerade. Startled, perhaps at discovering how intricate were the toils into which he had rushed, and possibly vexed at being so thoroughly over-reached, he made several turns across the deck before he again spoke.
“I confess myself deceived,” he at length said, “and henceforth I shall submit to you as a master from whom one may learn, but who can never be surpassed. The landlord of the ‘Foul Anchor,’ at least, acted in his proper person, whoever might have been the aged seaman?”
“Honest Joe Joram! An useful man to a distressed mariner, you must allow. How liked you the Newport pilot?”
“Was he an agent too?”
“For the job merely. I trust such knaves no further than their own eyes can see. But, hist! Heard you nothing?”