And here in the midst of what was the
domain of his adventurous soul there was a lost youngster ready to shoot
him on suspicion of some extravagant treachery. Came ready to shoot!
That's good, too! He was too weary to laugh--and perhaps too sad. Also
the danger of the pistol-shot, which he believed real--the young are
rash--irritated him. The night and the spot were full of contradictions.
It was impossible to say who in this shadowy warfare was to be an enemy,
and who were the allies. So close were the contacts issuing from this
complication of a yachting voyage, that he seemed to have them all
within his breast.
"Shoot me! He is quite up to that trick--damn him. Yet I would trust him
sooner than any man in that yacht."
Such were his thoughts while he looked at Carter, who was biting his
lips, in the vexation of the long silence. When they spoke again to each
other they talked soberly, with a sense of relief, as if they had come
into cool air from an overheated room and when Carter, dismissed, went
into his boat, he had practically agreed to the line of action traced
by Lingard for the crew of the yacht. He had agreed as if in implicit
confidence. It was one of the absurdities of the situation which had to
be accepted and could never be understood.
"Do I talk straight now?" had asked Lingard.
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