“They tell me. Deemster, that the leader of this rising is a sort of left-hand relative of yours. Surely you can stop the man.”
“I've tried to, your Excellency, and failed,” said Philip.
The Governor tossed up his chin. “I'm told the fellow can't even write his own name,” he said.
“It's true,” said Philip.
“An illiterate and utterly uneducated person.”
“All the same, he's the wisest and strongest man on this island,” said Philip decisively.
The Governor frowned, and the pockmarks on his forehead seemed to swell. “The wisest and strongest man on this island will have to leave it,” he said.
Philip made no answer. He had come to plead, but he saw that it was hopeless. The Governor put his right hand in the breast, of his white waistcoat—he was alone in the dining-room after dinner—and darted at Philip a look of anger and command.
“Deemster,” he said, “if, as you say, you cannot stop this low-bred rascal, there's one thing you can do—leave him to himself.”
“That is to say,” said Philip out of a corner of his mouth, “to you.”