“It's good-bye, my lord,” said Blood. “And there's another thing.” He proffered a parchment that he had drawn from his pocket. “It's the commission. Bishop was right when he said it was a mistake.”
Lord Julian considered him, and considering him his expression softened.
“I am sorry,” he said sincerely.
“In other circumstances...” began Blood. “Oh, but there! Ye'll understand. The boat's waiting.”
Yet with his foot on the first rung of the ladder, Lord Julian hesitated.
“I still do not perceive—blister me if I do!—why you should not have found some one else to carry your message to the Commandant, and kept me aboard as an added hostage for his obedience to your wishes.”
Blood's vivid eyes looked into the other's that were clear and honest, and he smiled, a little wistfully. A moment he seemed to hesitate. Then he explained himself quite fully.
“Why shouldn't I tell you? It's the same reason that's been urging me to pick a quarrel with you so that I might have the satisfaction of slipping a couple of feet of steel into your vitals. When I accepted your commission, I was moved to think it might redeem me in the eyes of Miss Bishop—for whose sake, as you may have guessed, I took it. But I have discovered that such a thing is beyond accomplishment. I should have known it for a sick man's dream. I have discovered also that if she's choosing you, as I believe she is, she's choosing wisely between us, and that's why I'll not have your life risked by keeping you aboard whilst the message goes by another who might bungle it. And now perhaps ye'll understand.”
Lord Julian stared at him bewildered. His long, aristocratic face was very pale.
“My God!” he said. “And you tell me this?”