“Yes, it is.”
“And I suppose,” he added, sneeringly, “you wish it had been longer.”
“You are right there; I didn’t care to see you again,” returned Julius, boldly.
“I don’t wonder at that, after your base treachery, you rascally hound!” said Marlowe, furiously. “Do you know how Jack and me spent the last two years?”
“In prison?” said Julius, hesitating.
“Yes; in prison, and we have you to thank for it. You might as well have turned against your own father as against Jack.”
“No,” said Julius, firmly. “I am sorry for Jack. I wouldn’t have gone against him, if there was any other way of saving Paul. Paul had been kind to me when I needed it. What did Jack ever do for me? We lived together when he was out of prison, but it was I that brought him all my earnings. I paid my own way and more, too, even when I was a boy of eight. I owe Jack nothing. But I am sorry for him all the same. I wish he could get free.”
“And what about me?” asked Marlowe, sneeringly. “Are you glad I am free?”{212}
“No, I’m not,” said Julius, boldly. “I never liked you as well as Jack. He’s bad enough, but you’re worse. Though he didn’t take care of me, he was generally kind to me. Even if I owe him something, I owe you nothing.”
“But I owe you something, my chicken,” said Marlowe, between his teeth. “Do you know why I am here? No? Well, I’ll tell you. I met Ned Sanders soon after I got out, and he told me the tricks you played on him. I found out from him that you had come out West, and that’s why I came here. I hadn’t forgotten who sent me up. I swore, at the time, I’d be revenged, and now I’ve got the chance.”