The lawyer leaned back in his revolving chair and watched the other man with coldly critical eyes.
“Ah’m glad teh hear it, suh,” replied the other in a soft southern drawl.
The two men were sitting in the inner sanctum of Attorney Reynolds’ office. Unobserved, there was lying in a half opened drawer of the desk, and within easy reach of his hand a fully loaded revolver. There were but few of his clients that the lawyer received with the drawer closed.
“Ah, what is it like?” the captain went on, after a short pause, shifting his position to a more easy one.
The captain was tall and slender, with a habitual slowness of movement that could be changed on occasion to a tiger-like celerity. His face was thin, with sharply cut features, and dusky brown in color. His eyes were black and deeply set beneath heavy black eyebrows, and a long, sweeping, black moustache hid a thin straight-lipped mouth.
“Do you know the Marjorie?” went on the lawyer.
“Ah regret ah have not the pleasure of the lady’s acquaintance,” drawled the captain.
“Formerly the Mercury, of nowhere in particular,” added the lawyer.
The other man started up with a sudden interest.
“What about her?” he asked.