CHAPTER XIV.
A CHASE TO THE YACHT.
Possibly Jerome Wellington had made a study of the tactics employed so successfully by the great and famous general whose name he bore with so little lustre.
At any rate he believed in a quick and masterly attack, whereby the enemy might be demoralized, providing said enemy chanced to be inferior to him in power or endurance.
Roderic did not deceive himself with any false hope that the game was not worth the candle, nor that his opponent intended only a gigantic bluff. He had prepared for business, and meant to be in the game from start to finish.
Besides, deep down in his heart he realized that the handsome Adonis had been playing his cards with the idea of centering the affections of the charming Georgia upon himself, and this alone was a positive crime in the eyes of the man who lived only to win her for his own.
That rampant spark of jealousy has much to account for in this world—kingdoms have fallen, principalities been sacked, and countless homes been broken up because of it; while on the other hand it has urged men to great and noble deeds in order to win in the game of hearts.
Roderic, therefore, rather enjoyed the prospect of a little bout with this dashing cavalier whom he had once called his friend—he believed it would do him a world of good to embrace Jerome—he had more than once suspected that the modern Beau Brummel was guilty of the awful crime—in a gentleman—of wearing stays inside his coat, so that he might appear more military in his figure; and the opportunity was at hand to ascertain the truth.
Thus he stretched out his arms and took the man who leaped forward, to his heart.
Such an embrace as he gave the Adonis—Georgia thought she heard his ribs crack under the anaconda-like strain, and his tongue certainly did protrude from between his teeth.