which even cuts with a riding-whip (so the legend had it) could
never raffle into the semblance of a storm; something like the
passion of a fish would be if one could imagine such a thing as a
passionate fish.

That evening I experienced more distinctly than ever the sense of
moral discomfort which always attended me in that house lying under
the ban of all "decent" people. I refused to stay on and smoke
after dinner; and when I put my hand into the thickly-cushioned
palm of Jacobus, I said to myself that it would be for the last
time under his roof. I pressed his bulky paw heartily
nevertheless. Hadn't he got me out of a serious difficulty? To
the few words of acknowledgment I was bound, and indeed quite
willing, to utter, he answered by stretching his closed lips in his
melancholy, glued-together smile.

"That will be all right, I hope, Captain," he breathed out
weightily.

"What do you mean?" I asked, alarmed. "That your brother might
yet--"

"Oh, no," he reassured me. "He . . . he's a man of his word,
Captain."

My self-communion as I walked away from his door, trying to believe
that this was for the last time, was not satisfactory. I was aware
myself that I was not sincere in my reflections as to Jacobus's
motives, and, of course, the very next day I went back again.