Jerome looked at first as though he could bite a nail with pleasure—Owen expected him to swear, but the other seldom gave way to such vulgar exhibitions of temper.
On the contrary he smiled, and his white teeth showing through his carefully adjusted mustache gave Roderic the impression of a grinning hyena.
Still, the application hardly fitted such a case, for Jerome was considered an extremely handsome and fascinating man, however much of a human wolf he might be back of the scenes.
"Owen, you have called the hand for the first round. It is on me, and devilish hard. I could ill afford the cold cash I spent to hire that boat. I sincerely trust your counterpart will choke upon the good victuals I put aboard or else make himself so beastly drunk upon the liquor that he will fall overboard in the bay of Biscay or somewhere along the French coast."
"Don't reproach me for doing just what you would have done had you been in my shoes, and the plot been revealed to you, Wellington."
The other brightened up a trifle.
"You may be sure I would—but evidently you received a pretty strong tip—who betrayed me?"
He spoke carelessly, but there was a devilish gleam in his blazing eyes that told the state of his feelings toward the unknown.
Owen would sooner have cut his right hand off than betray the source of his knowledge.