He turned and strode toward the foot of the stairs.
“Hold on!” commanded the captain. “Hold on, Jim! Don’t you go off ha’f cocked. When I said ’twas my business to realize this thing, I meant just that and nothin’ more. I wa’n’t hintin’, and you ought to know it. You do know it, don’t you?”
The young man paused. “Yes,” he answered, after an instant’s struggle with his feelings; “yes, I do. I beg your pardon, Captain.”
“All right. And here’s somethin’ else; I just told you I wasn’t sartin I could stop the marriage. That’s the truth. But I don’t recollect sayin’ I’d actually hauled down the colors, not yet. Good night.”
“Good night, Captain. I shouldn’t have misunderstood you, of course. But, as you know, I respected and admired your niece. And this thing has—has—”
“Sort of knocked you on your beam ends, I understand. Well, Jim,” with a sigh, “I ain’t exactly on an even keel myself.”
They separated, Pearson going to his room. As Captain Elisha was passing through the hall on the second floor, he heard someone calling him by name. Turning, he saw his landlady’s head, bristling with curl papers, protruding from behind the door at the other end of the passage.
“Captain Warren,” she asked, “is that you?”
“Yes, ma’am,” replied the captain, turning back.
“Well, I’ve got a message for you. A Mr. Sylvester has ’phoned you twice this evening. He wishes to see you at his office at the earliest possible moment. He says it is very important.”