“They are right enough,” said Scarlett, with a shrug. “But is their treasury deep enough to pay a needy officer with reasonable regularity? I fancy not. As to their statesmen, I grant you their ability, knowing nothing of them good or bad; but it takes generals to win battles.”
As he spoke he threw one arm across the back of the settle, and in the most careless way in the world, turned his head. When he saw Ezra he first looked surprised, and then amused.
“What,” said he, jovially, “my young friend of the pistol! Well met!”
He arose. The spurs upon the heels of his boots clinked upon the tiled floor, his long sword trailed noisily at his side. Ezra, perfectly self-possessed, arose to greet him. Scarlett clasped his hand warmly.
“Chance,” declared the adventurer, “plays us many queer pranks as we journey through life.” He looked from Ezra to Pennington, a mocking smile upon his lips, then he continued: “For I suppose it was the very blindest chance that brought you here.”
Every inflection of the speaker’s voice and his whole attitude, however, indicated his complete disbelief in anything of the sort. It was plain to the boy that the soldier of fortune was convinced that he and Pennington were there by prearrangement. But Ezra did not speak; Pennington, his face a shade paler, sat watchfully observant.
Scarlett continued to glance from one to the other of them with amused toleration. It was as though he had detected them in a sort of child’s play by which they had hoped to hoodwink him.
“Sit you down,” he finally invited Ezra. “But over here,” pushing out a chair, “where we can see you more readily.”
Ezra sat down, and Scarlett waved his hand toward Pennington, the smile still curling his moustache.
“I do not know either of your names,” he said, “but,” to Ezra, “here is a gentleman whom you are unacquainted with, of course,” and he burst into a laugh, “but whom I could have diverted vastly had I chosen to tell him of our little misadventure upon the road, two nights ago.”
Surprise and incredulity came into the face of Pennington; but he strove to hide his agitation from the watchful eyes of the adventurer.
“Is it possible,” he ejaculated, “that this is the lad with the pistol—he,” eagerly, “whom you sent on with the message?”