“Ship?” The word was almost a whisper, and yet James Sturton recoiled and his face seemed even more livid as he met the speaker’s glance. “Fool!” continued my lord in the same dreadful, hushed voice. “Fool, in the corner yonder you will find a sheet o’ crumpled paper ... open and read it ... read it—aloud!”
Looking whither my lord pointed, Mr. Sturton took up and smoothed the crumpled sheet, glanced at it and hesitated.
“Aloud, my lord?”
“Aloud, fool!”
Then, mumbling somewhat, Mr. Sturton read as follows:
“Sir John Dering begs to say that unless my Lord Sayle is out of the country within forty-eight hours, Sir John proposes calling upon my Lord Sayle with the stoutest horse-whip to be found.”
“And you said ‘ship,’ I think?” inquired my lord in the same strangled voice.
“My lord, once aboard that ship he would trouble your lordship never again.”
“‘Trouble me never again!’” murmured Lord Sayle. “He never will ... he never shall ... but a ship? No, no!... A ship? Pshaw! We know a better way and a surer—eh, Sturton?”
“Your—your lordship means?”