“Then you lie, sir!” declared the man in black. “Here is my card.”
He tossed a slip of pasteboard on the table, and picking it up, I read the following:
| “CHRISTOPHER BURLEY. |
| ”For Parchmont and Tolliver, Solicitors, |
| “Lincoln’s Inn, London.” |
I handed the card to Captain Rudstone, and he glanced at it disdainfully.
“A law clerk,” he sneered. “But come, I will overlook your menial position. I am not too proud to clink glasses with you.”
“The boot is on the other leg, sir,” cried the man of law. “I pick my company, and I refuse to drink with a swashbuckler and a roysterer.”
“You shall drink with me,” roared the captain, drawing his blade, “or I will teach you civil manners with the point of this!”
I judged that it was time to interfere.
“Captain Rudstone, you are behaving unseemly,” said I. “There is no cause for a quarrel. You will think better of it in the morning. I beg you to drop the matter. Let us retire to the next room and have our friendly drink.”
I thought he would have run me through for my interference, so blackly did he glare at me; but the next instant he sheathed his sword and laughed.