In obedience to the order the guns were lowered, and a number of the men fell back from the window, and allowed me to get a glimpse of the person whom I supposed to be Mr. Wright. He was a tall, well-built man, with broad shoulders, and a face entirely English, covered with sandy whiskers.
"Who are you?" he asked, with the bluffness and arrogance of a native of Great Britain.
"A man," I replied.
"I have your word for that, but I require better evidence."
"What better evidence do you require?" I demanded.
He did not notice the remark, but continued,—
"I see many people every week, and although they have the form of men, they are villains."
"The more reason why you should treat honest people with courtesy when chance brings them this way," I replied.
"Hear the feller's blarney," muttered the Irishman.
"Silence," said Mr. Wright, and the command was obeyed.