A moment
he paused, then cast it from him as if it had been a cloak. His
voice sank again. He uttered a little laugh of weariness and
contempt.
"But there! I grow hot for nothing at all. I explain myself, I
think, and God knows, it is not my custom. I am grateful to you,
Lord Julian, for your kindly intentions. I am so. But ye'll
understand, perhaps. Ye look as if ye might."
Lord Julian stood still. He was deeply stricken by the other's
words, the passionate, eloquent outburst that in a few sharp,
clear-cut strokes had so convincingly presented the man's bitter
case against humanity, his complete apologia and justification for
all that could be laid to his charge. His lordship looked at that
keen, intrepid face gleaming lividly in the light of the great
poop lantern, and his own eyes were troubled. He was abashed.
He fetched a heavy sigh. "A pity," he said slowly. "Oh, blister
me - a cursed pity!" He held out his hand, moved to it on a sudden
generous impulse. "But no offence between us, Captain Blood!"
"Oh, no offence.
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