Terence O'Rourke, Gentleman Adventurer
"A very light man, for a slave—eh, captain, dear? Almost as white as a white man, wasn't he, now?"
"Many of the Fazzi are, I am told," muttered the German. The muzzle of that revolver was bulking very large upon his range of vision; it seemed to fascinate him.
At that moment a knock resounded upon the outer door.
"A friend of mine," explained O'Rourke, in a matter-of-course tone. "Get up, captain, dear, and open the door to him."
"I—I—"
Von Wever rose, shaking his fist at O'Rourke—a huge, heavy fist that trembled with passion. "You'll pay for this!" he declared.
"One of us will, that's sure," assented O'Rourke. "For the present, ye'll pay attention to what I tell ye. Open that door, ye swindler!" he thundered, with an abrupt change of manner.
The German hastily obliged, O'Rourke following him out into the hall with a quiet suggestion that von Wever would do wisely to "try no funny business."
Senet was admitted. "Captain von Wever?" he said. "I'm told you wish to see me."
"'Twas meself that sent for ye, Senet, lad," spoke up O'Rourke, over the German's shoulder. "Come on in."
He waited silently until both had entered the reception room, then followed them. "Be seated, gentlemen," he said, waving the dumbfoundered Senet into a chair. "'Tis a little reminiscence that Captain von Wever is regaling me with. I thought ye'd be interested. Sit tight, me boy, and ye'll understand why before long."
Continuing in his standing position, he addressed the German.
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