Part 3 (2/2)
”You think you could rob me more successfully next time, Boris?”
His kindly toleration was a lesson in diplomacy.
”Fie, fie, Evie! A family difference of opinion. I think we must not trouble Mr. Sedgwick with our little diversions _entre nous_.”
”Unfortunately, you are a day after the fair, Captain Bothwell. Miss Wallace has already done me the honor to consult me in an advisory capacity.”
I let him have my declaration of war with the airiest manner in the world. My spirits were rising with the nearness of the battle, and I thought it would do our cause not the least harm in the world to let him see I was not a whit afraid to cross blades.
”Indeed! Then for the matter in hand I may consider you one of the family. I congratulate you, Evie. Shall we say a brother--or a cousin--or----”
”It isn't necessary to be a cad, Boris,” she flung back hotly.
”Pardon me. You are right--neither necessary nor desirable. I offer regrets.” Then of a sudden the apology went out of his face like the flame from a blown candle. He swung curtly around upon me. ”Mr.
Sedgwick, I must trouble you for the map.”
I will be the last to deny that there was something compelling about the man. He sat there stroking his imperial, while the black eyes of the man held mine with a grip of steel. Masterful he looked, and masterful I found him to the last day of that deadly duel we fought out to a finish.
In that long moment of suspended animation when only our eyes lived--crossed and felt the temper of each other as with the edge of grinding rapiers--we took each the measure of his foe pretty accurately.
If I held my own it was but barely. The best I could claim was a drawn battle.
”Regretfully I am compelled to decline your request.”
”It is not a request but a demand. Come, sir, the map!” he repeated more harshly.
That he would somehow back his demand I did not for an instant doubt, though as to how I was still in the dark.
”Let _me_ set you right, Captain Bothwell. This is a law office, in the city of San Francisco, United States of America. I am neither Tommy Atkins nor a Russian serf. Therefore, I again decline.”
Coals of fire lay in his eyes.
”I--want--that--map!”
”So I gather, and as a child you often wanted the moon. But did you get it?” I inquired pleasantly.
”The map--the map!” He had not raised his voice a note, but I give you my word his eyes were devilish. He was a dangerous man in an ugly frame of mind.
”Certainly you are a man of one idea, captain. Show proof of owners.h.i.+p and I shall be glad to comply with your request.”
”But certainly.”
So quick was his motion that the revolver seemed to have leaped to his hand of its own accord.
”I give you my word, Mr. John Sedgwick of San Francisco, United States of America, that in the event you do not at once hand me that map I shall blow the top of your head off!”
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