“Then you were speaking false,” exclaimed the irate Smith, “when you said you did promise?”
“Really, Smith, I didn’t say I did promise—”
“Wretched liar!” replied Smith.
“That’s not a nice name to call a fellow,” mildly replied Hawkesbury. “I hope I’m a gentleman, and don’t deserve it.”
“Bah,” said Smith, in tones of utter disgust, standing aside and letting his enemy pass. “Go where you like, we want no sneaks here!”
Hawkesbury walked on, smiling pleasantly.
“Good-bye for the present,” said he. “Mind you obey your captain, you fellows. We all know he’s a gentleman, don’t we?”
And he went out, leaving us all in a state of utter astonishment.
A babel of voices at once arose. Some declared Hawkesbury was quite right not to stand being ordered about; others said he ought to have been stopped going out, and others said, “Who cared if he did go?”
In the midst of this my eyes turned to Jack Smith. His face, which had been flushed and excited, was now pale and solemn. He either did not hear or did not heed the discussion that was going on; and I must confess I felt half-frightened as my eyes suddenly met his. Not that he looked dangerous. He had a strange look—half of baffled rage and half of shame—which was quite new to me, and I waited anxiously to discover what he meant.