I can only think that He doesn't want to dirty His hand by strikin'
yer down."
Oscard had taken his pipe from his lips. He looked bigger, somehow,
than ever. His brown face was turning to an ashen colour, and there
was a dull, steel-like gleam in his blue eyes. The terrible, slow-
kindling anger of this Northerner made Durnovo catch his breath. It
was so different from the sudden passion of his own countrymen.
"Is this true?" he asked.
"It's a lie, of course," answered Durnovo, with a shrug of the
shoulders. He moved away as if he were going to his tent, but
Oscard's arm reached out. His large brown hand fell heavily on the
half-breed's shoulder.
"Stay," he said; "we are going to get to the bottom of this."
"Good," muttered Joseph, rubbing his hands slowly together; "this is
prime."
"Go on," said Oscard to him.
"Where's the wages you and Mr. Meredith has paid him for those forty
men?" pursued Joseph. "Where's the advance you made him for those
men at Msala? Not one ha'penny of it have they fingered. And why?
Cos they're slaves! Fifteen months at fifty pounds--let them as can
reckon tot it up for theirselves. That's his first swindle--and
there's others, sir! Oh, there's more behind. That man's just a
stinkin' hotbed o' crime. But this 'ere slave-owning is enough to
settle his hash, I take it.
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