“You let her drown.”
It gave me suddenly the measure of his ignorance; he did not know anything—nothing. His hell was uncertainty. Well, let him stay there.
“Where is she?” he said. “Where is she?”
“Where she’s no need to fear you,” I answered.
He had a sudden convulsive gesture, as if searching for a weapon.
“If you’ll tell me she’s alive...” he began.
“Oh, I’m not dead,” I answered.
“Never a drowned puppy was more,” he said, with a flash of vivacity. “You hang here—for murder—or in England for piracy.”
“Then I’ve little to want to live for,” I sneered at him.
“You let her drown,” he said. “You took her from that house, a young girl, in a little boat. And you can hold up your head.”