There was a half-hour of anecdotes of the Governor of Momba and his son
before Cunningham's name was even mentioned; and when the question of
him was slipped, so casually was it slipped that I, with senses
astretch, did not realize that this must be the sick man at Momba--not
until the next question was put.
"But there must have been something else, Rimmle, between the Governor
and Cunningham?"
Now, had they been drinking ordinary wine or heavy ale, Rimmle might
have held his own. But this was a rare vintage, a delicate bouquet meant
for a finer breed than Rimmle. His tongue was still limber but his wits
were fled. He was vain to display to the famous Captain Blaise his
knowledge of secret affairs. "Yes, it is true, Captain, there was more
than showed on the surface there. And that insult to Cunningham was no
accident. No,"--he winked,--"not at all. He had insulted and shot men
before, but he never knew that Cunningham was a professional duellist
himself. None of us in Momba knew. Did you, Captain?"
"He was not." Captain Blaise banged his hand on the table. "He killed
three men, yes; but bad men, and killed them in fair combat."
"Hm-m. A man to let alone that; but nothing of that was known--not then.
However, he took the Governor's professional duellist out behind a row
of palms one sunny morning and shot him--a beautiful bit of work. It was
the vastest surprise--a shock. But a duel, lawful possibly in your
country is not so in ours, Captain, and--"
"And is his daughter with him?"
"When she is not at the Governor's house--yes."
"What! Why there?"
"I don't know, unless it is the only house in that country where a young
lady of her position--and then her beauty--"
"Under that old satrap's roof? But here, Rimmle, what is the Governor
going to do with Cunningham?"
"Well, Captain, if it should happen that she will marry the Governor's
son, why Cunningham might be allowed--you know how, Captain, ho!
ho!--surely, to escape. Especially as nobody seems to mourn the man he
shot. But when she seemed slow to fall in with their wishes, and as
Cunningham had converted all his property into gold and diamonds and
shipped them or hid them--though no search has unearthed
them--preparatory to shooting the Governor's friend, why they grew
suspicious and threatened to push matters. Cunningham was nominally
under arrest always. And then he fell sick. How sick? Hard to say. But
should he die, or be punished--imprisoned, say--for the duel, consider
it. She is a beautiful girl, true, but human, and in time in that
lonesome country where white gentlemen of social position are so
scarce--! And, after all--the Governor of Momba's son and--"
"Rimmle"--Captain Blaise had stood up to look through an air port--"it's
a fair wind for me. Shall I put you ashore?"
"Ashore? Why, yes, yes! Bless me, I've had quite a stay, haven't I? But
if you care to try again, Captain, my friend Hassan is into Momba. He
will be aboard, no fear. If you do business with him, Captain, why, draw
on me, and it's money in my pocket."
"If I do business of that kind this cruise, Rimmle, I promise you I'll
do it with Hassan."
"Thank you, Captain. Speedy voyage to you, and don't forget Hassan.
Good-by, sir, to you."
Within the hour we sailed for Momba.