“No more,” he said firmly. “Sit down now. I want to talk to you.”
The man grovelled before him. His brain, giddy with the fumes of the spirit, held but one thought. He was to live! Mannister did not mean to kill him! It was unnatural—impossible!
“You are going to kill us, to kill us both!” he cried, in a frenzied whisper. “We heard of the oath you took. A year ago I could have met you like a man. Today we are broken, both of us. We have lived and slept with fear so long.”
“Your lives,” Mannister answered calmly, “are not worth a stray pin to me. Live or die, I am indifferent. You will come to no harm from me. If I have desired vengeance,” he added, with a faint smile, “don’t you think that I have it? You are not the Gaston Sinclair that you were, my friend. The lady, your companion, too
