“Harry,” said he, “here's something of yours I found last night.”
“You found?” echoed Mr. Riddle, in a strange voice, amidst a dead silence. “You found where?”
“On the table beside you.”
“And where the deuce were you?” Mr. Riddle demanded.
“In the window behind you,” said Nick, calmly.
This piece of information, to Mr. Riddle's plain discomfiture, was greeted with a roar of laughter, Mr. Darnley himself laughing loudest. Nor were these gentlemen satisfied with that. They crowded around Mr. Riddle and slapped him on the back, Mr. Darnley joining in with the rest. And presently Mr. Riddle flung away his sword, and laughed, too, giving his hand to Mr. Darnley.
At length Mr. Darnley turned to Nick, who had stood all this while behind them, unmoved.
“My friend,” said he, seriously, “such is your regard for human life, you will probably one day be a pirate or an outlaw. This time we've had a laugh. The next time somebody will be weeping. I wish I were your father.”
“I wish you were,” said Nick.
This took Mr. Darnley's breath. He glanced at the other gentlemen, who returned his look significantly. He laid his hand kindly on the lad's head.