“There’s no compulsion about it, Kenn. If you join it is of your own free will,” said Balmerino.
“I think not. Mr. Montagu has no option in the matter,” cried O’Sullivan. “He forfeited his right to decide for himself when he blundered in and heard our plans. Willy nilly, he must join us!”
“And if I don’t?”
His smile was like curdled milk. “Have you made your will, Mr. Montagu?”
“I made it at the gaming table last night, and the Chevalier O’Sullivan was one of the legatees,” I answered like a flash.
“Touché, Sully,” laughed Creagh. “Ecod, I like our young cockerel’s spirit.”
“And I don’t,” returned O’Sullivan. “He shall join us, or damme——” He stopped, but his meaning was plain to be read.
I answered dourly. “You may blow the coals, but I will not be het.”
“Faith, you’re full of epigrams to-night, Mr. Montagu,” Anthony Creagh was good enough to say. “You’ll make a fine stage exit—granting that Sully has his way. I wouldn’t miss it for a good deal.”
“If the house is crowded you may have my seat for nothing,” was my reply. Strange to say my spirits were rising. This was the first perilous adventure of my life, and my heart sang. Besides, I had confidence enough in Balmerino to know that he would never stand aside and let me suffer for his indiscretion if he could help it.