But Glenarvan had resolved to be patient. A powerful motive urged him to ascertain certain circumstances of Ayrton's mysterious life, especially as regarded Harry Grant and the Britannia. He therefore resumed his inquiries, speaking with extreme mildness, and imposing the most perfect calmness upon the violent agitation of his heart.
"I hope, Ayrton," continued he, "that you will not refuse to answer certain questions that I desire to ask you. And, first, am I to call you Ayrton or Ben Joyce? Are you the quartermaster of the Britannia?"
Ayrton remained unmoved, watching the coast, deaf to every question. Glenarvan, whose eye flashed with some inward emotion, continued to question him.
"Will you tell me how you left the Britannia, and why you were in Australia?"
There was the same silence, the same obstinacy.
"Listen to me, Ayrton," resumed Glenarvan. "It is for your interest to speak. We may reward a frank confession, which is your only resort. For the last time, will you answer my questions?"
Ayrton turned his head towards Glenarvan, and looked him full in the face.
"My lord," said he, "I have nothing to answer. It is for justice to prove against me."
"The proofs will be easy," replied Glenarvan.
USELESS APPEALS.