“What I want to know,” he broke out, “is where the devil Mr. Cassilis comes from, and what the devil Mr. Cassilis is doing here. You say you are married; that I do not believe. If you were, Graden Floe would soon divorce you; four minutes and a half, Cassilis. I keep my private cemetery for my friends.”
“It took somewhat longer,” said I, “for that Italian.”
He looked at me for a moment half daunted, and then, almost civilly, asked me to tell my story. “You have too much the advantage of me, Cassilis,” he added. I complied of course; and he listened, with several ejaculations, while I told him how I had come to Graden: that it was I whom he had tried to murder on the night of landing; and what I had subsequently seen and heard of the Italians.
“Well,” said he, when I had done, “it is here at last; there is no mistake about that. And what, may I ask, do you propose to do?”
“I propose to stay with you and lend a hand,” said I.
“You are a brave man,” he returned, with a peculiar intonation.
“I am not afraid,” said I.
“And so,” he continued, “I am to understand that you two are married? And you stand up to it before my face, Miss Huddlestone?”
“We are not yet married,” said Clara; “but we shall be as soon as we can.”
“Bravo!” cried Northmour. “And the bargain? D—n it, you’re not a fool, young woman; I may call a spade a spade with you. How about the bargain? You know as well as I do what your father’s life depends upon. I have only to put my hands under my coat-tails and walk away, and his throat would he cut before the evening.”