Richard was silent with rage and cold disgust, and a sort of police-fear.
"Pray what sort of security?" he replied, coldly.
"That's for you to say, maybe. But we want some sort of security that you'll keep quiet, before we let you leave Australia."
Richard's heart blazed in him with anger and disgust.
"You need not be afraid," he said. "You've made it all too repulsive to me now, for me ever to want to open my mouth about it all. You can be quite assured: nothing will ever come out through me."
Jack looked up with a faint, sneering smile.
"And you think we shall be satisfied with your bare word?" he said uglily.
But now Richard looked him square in the eyes.
"Either that or nothing,' he replied.
And unconscious of what he was doing, he sat looking direct down into the dark, shifting malice of Jack's eyes. Till Jack turned aside. Richard was now so angry and insulted he felt only pure indignation.
"We'll see," said Jack.
Somers did not even heed him. He was too indignant to think of him any more. He only retreated into his own soul, and turned aside, invoking his own soul: "Oh, dark God, smite him over the mouth for insulting me. Be with me, gods of the other world, and strike down these liars."
Harriet came out on to the verandah.
"What are you two men talking about?" she said. "I hear two very cross and snarling voices, though I can't tell what they say."
"I was just saying Mr Somers can't expect to have it all his own way," said Jack in his low, intense, slightly husky voice, that was now jeering viciously.
"He'll try his best to," said Harriet. "But whatever have you both got so furious about. Just look at Lovat, green with fury. It's really shameful. Men are like impish children—you daren't leave them together for a minute."
"It was about time you came to throw cold water over us," smiled Jack sardonically. Ah, how sardonic he could be: deep, deep and devilish. He too must have a very big devil in his soul. But he never let it out. Or did he? Harriet looked at him, and shuddered slightly. He scared
