Under the fire of this arraignment I sat hot-cheeked and incredulous, while a general wave of agitation seemed to stir the drowsy atmosphere.  Aunt Jane was quivering, her round eyes fixed on Miss Higglesby-Browne like a fascinated rabbit’s on a serpent.  Mr. Hamilton H. Tubbs had pursed his lips to an inaudible whistle, and alternately regarded the summits of the palms and stole swift ferret-glances at the faces of the company.  Captain Magnus had taken a sheath-knife from his belt and was balancing it on one finger, casting about him now and then a furtive, crooked, roving look, to meet which made you feel like a party to some hidden crime.  Mr. Vane had remained for some time in happy unconsciousness of the significance of Miss Browne’s oration.  It was something to see it gradually penetrate to his perceptions, vexing the alabaster brow with a faint wrinkle of perplexity, then suffusing his cheeks with agonized and indignant blushes.  “Oh, I say, really, you know!” hovered in unspoken protest on his tongue.  He threw imploring looks at Mr. Shaw, who alone of all the party sat imperturbable, except for a viciously bitten lip.

Miss Higglesby-Browne had drawn a deep breath, preparatory to resuming her verbal ramble, but I sprang to my feet.

“Miss Browne,” I said, in tones less coldly calm than I could have wished, “if you have thought it necessary to—­to orate at this length merely to tell me that I am to have no share in this ridiculous treasure of yours, you have wasted a great deal of energy.  In the first place, I don’t believe in your treasure.”  (Which, of course, despite my temporary lapse, I really didn’t.) “I think you are—­sillier than any grown-up people I ever saw.  In the second place, anything you do find you are welcome to keep.  Do you think I came along with people who didn’t want me, and have turned my own aunt against me, for the sake of filthy lucre?  Did I come intentionally at all, or because I was shanghaied and couldn’t help myself?  Aunt Jane!” I demanded, turning to my stricken relative, who was gazing in anguish and doubt from Miss Browne to me, “haven’t you one spark left of family pride—­I don’t talk of affection any longer—­that you sit still and hear me made speeches at in this fashion?  Have you grown so sordid and grasping that you can think of nothing but this blood-stained pirate gold?”

Aunt Jane burst into tears.

“Good gracious, Virginia,” she wailed, “how shocking of you to say such things!  I am sure we all got along very pleasantly until you came—­and in that dreadfully sudden way.  You might at least have been considerate enough to wire beforehand.  As to blood-stains, there was a preparation your Aunt Susan had that got them out beautifully—­I remember the time the little boy’s nose bled on the drawing-room rug.  But I should think just washing the gold would do very well!”

It was impossible to feel that these remarks helped greatly to clear the situation.  I opened my mouth, but Miss Browne was beforehand with me.