But why? A blow is seldom given except for cause. And there was cause enough behind this one, as monsieur would learn, if he cared to listen.
"In things that concern you personally, sir—" began Monsieur Lafargue, in his cold voice, but Anthony stopped him.
Let there be no misunderstanding of the matter, the young man requested, with the sharp, biting note that sometimes came into his voice; this was a concern of monsieur's. It had more to do with monsieur than any one else in the world. And now would he hear it?
Monsieur signed, with a shaking hand, that he would.
Very well. In the telling, said Anthony, he must go back; he must start at Brest, and with the letter which monsieur had received from Magruder.
"Accursed letter!" said monsieur. "Accursed letter!"
It was Magruder's communication which brought monsieur and mademoiselle across the ocean. Mademoiselle had said so. And, in light of this, monsieur might be interested to know that at the time he had received this writing at Brest Anthony had received another, much like it, at New Orleans; and from the same person. The call that had brought them from France had brought him north on the first ship he could get.
At this mademoiselle stirred in her chair; her eyes were eager; but Anthony spoke to her father.
The letter that summoned him, he said, was a furtive one; it was plain that it came from a person of little courage. But, for all, there was that in it which compelled attention. No doubt monsieur had received much the same impression.
"When I first saw Magruder in his counting-room," said Anthony, "his vitals were knotted in dread. He feared for his money; he feared for it shamelessly. And he choked with the thought it'd be found out he'd given me warning. As I watched him," said Anthony, "I grew sick at him; never before had I seen such a frantic, tight-hearted, cowering wretch."