Reeves and the consul remained in their chairs, saying nothing, but astonished at the unexpected show of intolerance from the easy-going man from Chatham county.
But Morgan, with a suddenly purpling face, leaped, to his feet and raised a threatening arm above the guest.
“You—brute!” he shouted, passionately; “why did you do that?”
Quickly the amenities returned, Plunkett muttered some indistinct apology and regained his seat. Morgan with a decided effort controlled his indignation and also returned to his chair.
And then Plunkett with the spring of a tiger, leaped around the corner of the table and snapped handcuffs on the paralyzed Morgan’s wrists.
“Hound-lover and woman-killer!” he cried; “get ready to meet your God.”
When Bridger had finished I asked him:
“Did he get the right man?”
“He did,” said the Consul.
“And how did he know?” I inquired, being in a kind of bewilderment.