“Suspicions!” exclaimed Paganel, shrugging his shoulders.
“And what can they be?” asked Glenarvan. “Does he suppose him capable of having killed our horses and bullocks? And for what purpose? Is not Ayrton’s interest identical with our own?”
“You are right, dear Edward,” said Lady Helena! “and what is more, the quartermaster has given us incontestable proofs of his devotion ever since the commencement of the journey.”
“Certainly he has,” replied Mangles; “but still, what could the Major mean? I wish he would speak his mind plainly out.”
“Does he suppose him acting in concert with the convicts?” asked Paganel, imprudently.
“What convicts?” said Miss Grant.
“Monsieur Paganel is making a mistake,” replied John Mangles, instantly. “He knows very well there are no convicts in the province of Victoria.”
“Ah, that is true,” returned Paganel, trying to get out of his unlucky speech. “Whatever had I got in my head? Convicts! who ever heard of convicts being in Australia? Besides, they would scarcely have disembarked before they would turn into good, honest men. The climate, you know, Miss Mary, the regenerative climate—”
Here the poor SAVANT stuck fast, unable to get further, like the wagon in the mud. Lady Helena looked at him in surprise, which quite deprived him of his remaining sang-froid; but seeing his embarrassment, she took Mary away to the side of the tent, where M. Olbinett was laying out an elaborate breakfast.
“I deserve to be transported myself,” said Paganel, woefully.