June, 18--.
I could not control myself any longer. "You are the greatest scoundrel
that ever walked in shoes, Mr. Howell, or Davis, or whatever you call
yourself!" I shouted, and rushed at him. I believe I should have
knocked him down, if Monk had not quickly intervened.
It was hardly necessary, however, to strike him, for at my words he
staggered back, as if stupefied, and leant against the wall.
Monk was the first to speak.
"You may thank my friend you have been warned, Mr. Davis; otherwise it
had been my intention to let you find out for yourself that your
forgeries and frauds have been discovered."
The Englishman was deadly pale. He opened a cupboard with trembling
hands, took out a bottle, and poured himself out a large glass of
cognac.
"Have you anything more to say to him? If not, let us go; I can no
longer stand the sight of the scoundrel."
"All right," answered Monk, and we went quickly up the cabin stairs and
into the long-boat which awaited us.
"You weren't going to tell him, then, that all his rascality had been
discovered?"
"No, I wanted him to fall into the hands of the English police. But now
he'll take good care not to put his foot on English soil any more."
"You ought to have warned me beforehand."
"It is not worth bothering about. For the rest of his life he will be a
wretched exile, without money and without friends; I know he has already
ruined his father, old Davis. He possesses nothing now but his yacht.
It was by the skin of his teeth that he got away from his creditors in
England this time."
* * * * *