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.
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