“Not a word!” said Macaulay hastily. “My position was ridiculous in law and equity. Ne dominia rerum sint incerta neve lites sint perpetuæ—even if your folk had held the place for only forty years instead of two hundred, your claim would be unassailable, as I’m prepared to contest in any court in the land. Kincreggan, Captain—pooh! I esteem the place so little that upon my word I would not grudge to put powder to it myself. And, if you will permit me, I’ll take my desk again.”
Kilree rose from the lawyer’s seat with a chuckle, and Macaulay, indicating another, sank into his old chair with a sigh of satisfaction.
“I would like to ask you one thing,” said the Captain. “How did it feel?”
The lawyer flushed over his clean-shaven face and stared straight in front of him out of the window at the sea-shore with the wild gulls flying free.
“I hope it is the last time so shameful an affair will call for reference,” he said; “but I’ll tell you this, it was—it was an ecstasy! I would not have lost the experience for ten thousand pounds.”
“Ho! ho!” said the Captain.
“Nor have it again for twice ten thousand,” concluded the lawyer.
“And do you know this?” said the Captain, taking a grip of his arm and speaking softly into his ear. “Do you know this? By heavens, I envy you! What broke the spell?”
“I know, but I’m not going to tell you,” said the lawyer shamefacedly.
“Come, come! It is hardly worth while swallowing the rump and retching at the tail.”