"Dove's had her on board his ship for years," said Farish M'Kissock brusquely.
"Is it Sallie you're talking about!" he exclaimed. "Good God! Can it be possible that—But never mind now. I must—" He made as if to rise.
"Wait a minute, my lord," requested Farish M'Kissock in a tone which compelled his attention. "You've got two desperate men to deal with above-stairs. You've seen how they've handled me, and they would think nothing of throwing the two of us, neck and crop, into the drowning-hole in the tunnel behind you. You will be very ill-advised to beard them alone. I can help you—"
"How?"
"You'll see when the time comes."
"But I can't stay squatting here like a rat in a drain while they—I'm a free man—now that I know you're alive after all," declared the ragged scarecrow with the eye-glass, as if to encourage himself. "And I'm Earl of Jura; there's no getting out of that. I must put a stop to Slyne's villainous scheme at once, M'Kissock. He's a rotten bad egg; I know him. It would never do to let him get—her into his infernal clutches."
Farish M'Kissock eyed him with no good will.
"Ay," he agreed reluctantly. "Your lordship's a belted earl now, by all the laws of the land. And Farish M'Kissock that was a king is fated to die a beggar.
"But, first,—and it's hard, dooms hard!—I must help you—so far at least. It's the two of us against those other two, for the moment. Afterwards, we will talk of—yon old matter between us; for, mind you! Lord Jura, I neither forget nor forgive."
The Earl of Jura shrugged his shoulders again. He had almost forgotten the cause of his old quarrel on the cliffs with the gamekeeper's son. He had more than enough to think about in its seemingly endless outcome. And his apparent indifference seemed to inflame the hatred the other still bore him.