"I think not," said Captain Stewart; but he breathed hard, for he knew well enough that there lay the gravest danger.
"I think not," he said again. He made a rather surprisingly accurate guess at the truth—that Ste. Marie had started out upon impulse, without intending more than a general reconnaissance, and therefore without leaving any word behind him. Still, the shadow of danger uplifted itself before the man and he was afraid. A sudden gust of weak anger shook him like a wind.
"In Heaven's name," he cried shrilly, "why didn't that one-eyed fool kill the fellow while he was about it? There's danger for us every moment while he is alive here. Why didn't that shambling idiot kill him?" Captain Stewart's outflung hand jumped and trembled, and his face was twisted into a sort of grinning snarl. He looked like an angry and wicked cat, the other man thought.
"If I weren't an over-civilised fool," he said viciously, "I'd go upstairs and kill him now with my hands—while he can't help himself. We're all too scrupulous by half."
The Irishman stared at him and presently broke into amazed laughter.
"Scrupulous!" said he. "Well, yes, I'm too scrupulous to murder a man in his bed, if you like. I'm not squeamish, but——Good Lord!"
"Do you realise," demanded Captain Stewart, "what risks we run while that fellow is alive—knowing what he knows?"
"Oh yes, I realise that," said O'Hara. "But I don't see why you should have heart failure over it."
Captain Stewart's pale lips drew back again in their cat-like fashion.
"Never mind about me," he said. "But I can't help thinking you're peculiarly indifferent in the face of danger."