I ceased to be annoyed at my unexpected predicament.
It was some mistake on his part; he was blundering, and I had an intuition that the blunder was of an odious, of an unfortunate nature.
I was anxious to end this scene on grounds of decency, just as one is anxious to cut short some unprovoked and abominable confidence.
The funniest part was, that in the midst of all these considerations of the higher order I was conscious of a certain trepidation as to the possibility—nay, likelihood—of this encounter ending in some disreputable brawl which could not possibly be explained, and would make me ridiculous.
I did not hanker after a three days’ celebrity as the man who got a black eye or something of the sort from the mate of the Patna.
He, in all probability, did not care what he did, or at any rate would be fully justified in his own eyes.
It took no magician to see he was amazingly angry about something, for all his quiet and even torpid demeanour.
I don’t deny I was extremely desirous to pacify him at all costs, had I only known what to do.
But I didn’t know, as you may well imagine.
It was a blackness without a single gleam.
We confronted each other in silence.
He hung fire for about fifteen seconds, then made a step nearer, and I made ready to ward off a blow, though I don’t think I moved a muscle.
“If you were as big as two men and as strong as six,” he said very softly, “I would tell you what I think of you.
You . . .”
“Stop!” I exclaimed.
This checked him for a second.
“Before you tell me what you think of me,” I went on quickly, “will you kindly tell me what it is I’ve said or done?”
During the pause that ensued he surveyed me with indignation, while I made supernatural efforts of memory, in which I was hindered by the oriental voice within the court-room expostulating with impassioned volubility against a charge of falsehood.
Then we spoke almost together.
“I will soon show you I am not,” he said, in a tone suggestive of a crisis.
“I declare I don’t know,” I protested earnestly at the same time.
He tried to crush me by the scorn of his glance.
“Now that you see I am not afraid you try to crawl out of it,” he said. “Who’s a cur now—hey?”
Then, at last, I understood.
‘He had been scanning my features as though looking for a place where he would plant his fist.
“I will allow no man,” . . . he mumbled threateningly.
It was, indeed, a hideous mistake; he had given himself away utterly.
I can’t give you an idea how shocked I was.
I suppose he saw some reflection of my feelings in my face, because his expression changed just a little.
“Good God!” I stammered, “you don’t think I . . .”
“But I am sure I’ve heard,” he persisted, raising his voice for the first time since the beginning of this deplorable scene.
Then with a shade of disdain he added, “It wasn’t you, then?
Very well; I’ll find the other.”
“Don’t be a fool,” I cried in exasperation; “it wasn’t that at all.”
“I’ve heard,” he said again with an unshaken and sombre perseverance.
‘There may be those who could have laughed at his pertinacity; I didn’t.
Oh, I didn’t!
There had never been a man so mercilessly shown up by his own natural impulse.
A single word had stripped him of his discretion—of that discretion which is more necessary to the decencies of our inner being than clothing is to the decorum of our body.
“Don’t be a fool,” I repeated.
“But the other man said it, you don’t deny that?” he pronounced distinctly, and looking in my face without flinching.
“No, I don’t deny,” said I, returning his gaze.
At last his eyes followed downwards the direction of my pointing finger.
He appeared at first uncomprehending, then confounded, and at last amazed and scared as though a dog had been a monster and he had never seen a dog before.
“Nobody dreamt of insulting you,” I said.
‘He contemplated the wretched animal, that moved no more than an effigy: it sat with ears pricked and its sharp muzzle pointed into the doorway, and suddenly snapped at a fly like a piece of mechanism.
‘I looked at him.
The red of his fair sunburnt complexion deepened suddenly under the down of his cheeks, invaded his forehead, spread to the roots of his curly hair.
His ears became intensely crimson, and even the clear blue of his eyes was darkened many shades by the rush of blood to his head.
His lips pouted a little, trembling as though he had been on the point of bursting into tears.