“What causes the temper?” inquired the captain, with his most judicial air, as he took the liquor from his messenger and carefully filled a couple of glasses.
“It’s natural!” said his friend ruefully. “She calls it having a high spirit herself. And she’s so generous. She’s got a married niece living in the place, and when that gal comes round and admires the things—my things—she gives ’em to her! She gave her a sofa the other day, and, what’s more, she made me help the gal to carry it home!”
“Have you tried being sarcastic?” inquired the captain thoughtfully.
“I have,” said Pepper, with a shiver. “The other day I said, very nasty, ‘Is there anything else you’d like, my dear?’ but she didn’t understand it.”
“No?” said the captain.
“No,” said Pepper. “She said I was very kind, and she’d like the clock; and, what’s more, she had it too! Red-’aired hussy!”
The captain poured out some gin and drank it slowly. It was evident he was thinking deeply, and that he was much affected by his friend’s troubles.
“There is only one way for me to get clear,” said Pepper, as he finished a thrilling recital of his wrongs, “and that is, to find Cap’n Budd, her first.”
“Why, he’s dead!” said Crippen, staring hard. “Don’t you waste your time looking for him!”
“I’m not going to,” said Pepper; “but here’s his portrait. He was a big man like you; he had blue eyes and a straight handsome nose, like you. If he’d lived to now he’d be almost your age, and very likely more like you than ever. He was a sailor; you’ve been a sailor.”