“I w-wanted you to ar-r-rest me, W-White,” roared Claude. “I s-said you would, and you have.”
“Confound it, how could you know I was here?”
“You were sure to wait here for a man who probably will not return for months.”
“Was I, indeed? Well, you have yourself to blame if you are hurt. I hope my mates did not treat you too badly?”
“What?” cried the one who had not yet spoken. “He gave me such a punch on the bread-basket that I’ve only just recovered my speech.”
“I think we’re about quits,” said the other, surveying a torn waistcoat and broken watch-chain.
“I shall be black and blue all over to-morrow,” said Bruce; “but if you are satisfied I am. Come, Mr. White, bring your friends and we will open a bottle of wine. We all want it. Corbett won’t be here to-night. Just now he is in Wyoming.”
“How do you know?”
“By intuition. I am seldom mistaken.”
“But why didn’t you call out just now when you came in?”