"Of course I had no ill will against you personally."
"Very true; if you had, you would have been a dead man before this time. Phil Kennedy was a fool, but he was my best friend. I have his bond for forty thousand dollars, which is waste paper just now. Phil fell by your hand."
"It was in fair fight."
"Nonsense! What matter is it to me how he fell, whether it was in fair fight or foul? He is dead; that is all."
"What has all this to do with me?" asked Somers, with seeming impatience.
"Much, my dear fellow. Phil was to marry Kate Portington; was to pocket her fortune. You have cut him out. You will marry her, and in due time come into possession of a million. The commodore is apoplectic, and will not live many years. Do you see my point?"
"I do not," answered Somers, disgusted with this heartless statement.
"As you cheated me out of the Snowden, as you killed Phil Kennedy, as you will marry Kate Portington, I propose that you assume and pay Phil's bond."
"I?"
"Certainly—you; Mr. Somers; Kate's prodigy," laughed Pillgrim.