"You do not believe me?"
"Mademoiselle may rest assured," I replied gently, "that I
understand--perfectly."
"You!" I started at her sudden vexation, started to find that her eyes
were filled with tears.
"You understand quite nothing! Never have I seen anyone so cruel,
so stupid!"
"Mademoiselle," I said, "I have been awkward, but forgive me--the cabin
of the _Sea Tern_, where you asked him to sail on, and when you bade him
recall what he said on the stairs at Blanzy.... Your pardon! I have been
very blunt."
And now she was regarding me with blank astonishment.
"Surely he told you," she murmured, "Surely he told you what the Marquis
had intended."
Then she stopped, confused and silent.
"Mon Dieu!" she exclaimed suddenly, "But he has told you nothing!"
"No," I said dully, "He has been most discreet. But does it make any real
difference, Mademoiselle, except that I know now that the Marquis was a
man of very keen discrimination?"
"Are you mad?" cried Mademoiselle, "I tell you it is not your father. I
tell you I--"
Her face had grown scarlet. She bowed her head, and tugged more violently
than ever at the corner of her handkerchief.
"Mademoiselle," I said unsteadily, "Mademoiselle, what was it he told you
at Blanzy?"
"I cannot tell you if you do not know," she answered, "Indeed I cannot."
"But you will!" I cried. "You will, Mademoiselle! You must!
Mademoiselle--"
Her eyes had met mine again.
"They were breaking in the door," she began, "and he was going down to
meet them. I told him--I told him to go, to leave me, and take the paper.
He said--"
She paused again, watching me in vague embarrassment.
"He said he'd be damned if he would, Monsieur. He said he would do what
the Marquis had directed, if he had to swing for it. That he would take
the paper and me to America--that I ... Mon Dieu! Do you not know what he
said! Can you not guess?... He said that I was to marry his son."
A smile suddenly played about her lips.
"And I told him," she continued breathlessly, "I told him I'd be damned
if I would, Monsieur. That neither he nor the Marquis would make me marry
a man I did not know, much less a son of his!"
"And when you asked him to recall it--Mademoiselle, when you asked him to
recall it, did you mean--tell me, Mademoiselle!"
"Ah," she whispered, "but it is too soon, and you are too rough,
Monsieur! I beg of you--be careful! Besides--someone is coming."
And then I heard a soft footstep behind me.
"Huh!" said Brutus, "I go tell the captain. No. It is all right. I tell
the captain. He is happy. It will please him. Huh!" His long speech
seemed to have taken his breath, for he paused, grinning broadly.
"Huh!" he said finally. "Mr. Lawton shoot Mr. Jason. Shoot him with
pistol off the table. The captain is happy."
But before Brutus could turn to go, my father was in the doorway,
smoothing the bandage on his arm.
"Let us say relieved, Brutus," he answered smoothly. "It is dangerous
ever to use superlatives."
Then he glanced from Mademoiselle to me, and his smile broadened.
"Very much relieved," he said, "and yet--and yet I still feel thirsty.
The rum decanter, Brutus."