“Make your meaning plainer,” said I. “As yet I am in the dark.”
“The point is this,” the captain answered gravely. “If we wait for the company’s ship, which sails in a week, serious things may happen—not to speak of the duel. I happen to know that a trading-vessel leaves the river to-morrow morning for the Bay. The captain is a friend of mine, and he will give the three of us a passage.”
“This is the last proposition I should have looked for from you, Captain Rudstone,” I replied indignantly. “Would you have me slink away like a thief in the night, giving Cuthbert Mackenzie the pleasure of branding me far and wide as a coward? It is not to be thought of, sir.”
The captain shrugged his shoulders, and meditatively blew a cloud of smoke ceilingward.
“I admire your spirit,” he said, “but not your discretion. Am I to understand, then, Mr. Carew, that you choose honor before duty?”
I looked at him speechlessly. He had a cutting way of putting things, and it dawned on me that there was indeed two sides to the question. But before I could find words to reply, the silence of the June night was broken by a shrill scream directly below us. It was followed by a cry for help, and I was sure I recognized Miss Hatherton’s voice.
With one impulse Captain Rudstone and I drew our pistols and sprang to our feet. In a trice we were out in the hall, and plunging recklessly down the stairs. We heard distant calls of alarm from the lower part of the house, and a woman’s voice, ringing loudly and close at hand, guided us to Miss Hatherton’s room. Captain Rudstone burst the door from its fastenings by a single effort, and I followed him over the threshold. The moon was shining through an open window, and by its pale light the girl darted toward us, her snowy night dress trailing behind her, and her disheveled hair flowing about her shoulders.
“Save me!” she cried hysterically. “Save me from Cuthbert Mackenzie!”