Chap-fallen, with much of his high colour
suddenly departed, the Deputy-Governor was swaying on unsteady legs.
Peter Blood considered him with a grimness that increased his panic.
"I marvel that I don't pistol you without more ado, ye fat
blackguard. If I don't, it's for the same reason that once before
I gave ye your life when it was forfeit. Ye're not aware of the
reason, to be sure; but it may comfort ye to know that it exists.
At the same time I'll warn ye not to put too heavy a strain on my
generosity, which resides at the moment in my trigger-finger. Ye
mean to hang me, and since that's the worst that can happen to me
anyway, you'll realize that I'll not boggle at increasing the
account by spilling your nasty blood." He cast his cane from him,
thus disengaging his left hand. "Be good enough to give me your
arm, Colonel Bishop. Come, come, man, your arm."
Under the compulsion of that sharp tone, those resolute eyes, and
that gleaming pistol, Bishop obeyed without demur. His recent
foul volubility was stemmed.
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