‘One thing at least is certain,’ said Lancelot. ‘You must not return to the mercies of those villains.’
Mr. Ebrow drew himself stiffly up. He was wet and weary, and the ugly cut on his forehead did not add to the charm of his rugged face, but just at that moment he seemed handsome.
‘Mr. Amber,’ he said, ‘I passed my word to those men that I would return after I had given you their message, and I will keep my word.’
‘But,’ said Lancelot, ‘they will kill you!’
‘It is possible,’ said the man of God calmly. ‘It is very probable. But I have in my mind the conduct of the Roman Regulus. Should I, who am a minister of Christ, be less nice in my honour than a Pagan?’
‘Nay, but if we were to restrain you by force?’ asked Lancelot.
‘Mr. Amber,’ Ebrow answered, ‘it was your duty just now to administer a reproof to your friend; I hope you will not force me to reprove you in your turn. I have given my word, and there is an end of it; and if you were to hold me by the strong hand I should think you more worthy to consort with those pirates than with me.’
It was now Lancelot’s turn to blush. Then he gripped Mr. Ebrow’s hand.
‘I beg your pardon,’ he said, and there were tears in his eyes as he spoke. ‘You have taught me a noble lesson.’