“Yes, rather. One of the greatest devils unhung,” replied Wither cheerfully.
“What do you mean?” cried Kent in an agitated voice, starting forward and gripping the arms of his chair. “Take care what you are saying. It is a matter of life and death to—to somebody. What do you know about him? Tell me.”
Wither arched his eyebrows in surprise, and became serious. Then his quick intuition supplied him with the reason for Kent's agitation.
“I only spoke idle gossip,” he said, “and I have the misfortune to be hyperbolical at times. The man has had some dealings with our office and that is how I come to know anything about him. Don't you remember he got into a row for wholesale slaughter of niggers on one of his expeditions? He cleared himself all right, of course, by proving mutiny, self-defence, and that sort of thing.”
“I remember the incident now,” said Kent. “It was in the papers.”
“Well, his public character is cleared,” said Wither, “and he is a good deal of a lion these days; but fellows who have served with him take the niggers' side of the question, and wonder how he remained a day among them without being torn to pieces. That's all I know about him, which you see is not much. My dear old boy,” he continued earnestly as Kent sat silent, staring in front of him, “is that the reason why you are starting so suddenly? Is it all fixed up? No chance?”
Kent nodded moodily.
“I suppose not. I was going to ask her this morning when I learned she had engaged herself—only last night—to this man. And I have seen him. Devil or not, he is a man.”
Wither bit his lip. For the moment he was at a loss for an expression of sympathy, somewhat uneasy as to the line he should adopt. What was the use of making Kent more miserable by telling him other ugly stories he had heard concerning Hammerdyke if either were powerless to prevent the marriage from taking place? Besides, it was only idle gossip after all, and in the serious affairs of life Wither was honourable and conscientious.
Suddenly Kent broke out: