“Yes,” grunted Sir Robert sardonically, “he was on the ship. And you saw
what he did in the Grand Hotel at Yokohama, didn't you? He nearly killed
a waiter--a Chinaman, who was quite defenseless. But of course you saw
it. I recall that you were dining with him at the time.”
“He was drunk,” I said huskily, as if in extenuation.
“Yes,” repeated Sir Robert dryly. “He was drunk. Rather dangerous at
such times, is n't he?”
“Yes, but he quit drinking--after that. Cut it all out.” I could not
keep my voice from rising a little. I felt my confusion increasing--my
thoughts were all adrift, swept here and there by currents of feeling
that I could not fathom.
“Oh, he did?” Why would n't that old man take his unpleasant eyes off
me! “Oh, he did? You are in his confidence, then. And of course you know
even more”--he paused, very deliberately--“regarding his state of mind,
his reason for coming out here to the other side of the world, all
that?”