The captain was permitted to discourse as he pleased:  his wife was wholly given to the recent visitor to Earlsfont, whom she informed that Caroline was the youngest daughter of General Adister, her second brother, and an excellent maiden, her dear Edward’s mainstay in his grief.  At last she rose, and was escorted to the door by all present.  But Captain Con rather shame-facedly explained to Patrick that it was a sham departure; they had to follow without a single spin to the claretjug:  he closed the door merely to state his position; how at half-past ten he would be a free man, according to the convention, to which his wife honourably adhered, so he had to do likewise, as regarded his share of it.  Thereupon he apologised to the brothers, bitterly regretting that, with good wine in the cellar, his could be no house for claret; and promising them they should sit in their shirts and stretch their legs, and toast the old country and open their hearts, no later than the minute pointing to the time for his deliverance.

Mrs. Adister accepted her husband’s proffered arm unhesitatingly at the appointed stroke of the clock.  She said:  ‘Yes,’ in agreement with him, as if she had never heard him previously enunciate the formula, upon his pious vociferation that there should be no trifling with her hours of rest.

‘You can find your way to my cabin,’ he said to Philip over his shoulder, full of solicitude for the steps of the admirable lady now positively departing.

As soon as the brothers were alone, Philip laid his hand on Patrick, asking him, ‘What does it mean?’

Patrick fired his cannon-shot:  ‘She’s married!’ Consulting his feelings immediately after, he hated himself for his bluntness.

Philip tossed his head.  ‘But why did you go down there?’

‘I went,’ said Patrick, ’well, I went . . . .  I thought you looked wretched, and I went with an idea of learning where she was, and seeing if I couldn’t do something.  It’s too late now; all’s over.’

‘My dear boy, I’ve worse than that to think of.’

‘You don’t mind it?’

‘That’s old news, Patrick.’

‘You don’t care for her any more, Philip?’

‘You wouldn’t have me caring for a married woman?’

‘She has a perfect beast for a husband.’

‘I’m sorry she didn’t make a better choice.’

‘He’s a prince.’

‘So I hear.’

‘Ah!  And what worse, Philip, can you be having to think of?’

‘Affairs,’ Philip replied, and made his way to the cabin of Captain Con, followed in wonderment by Patrick, who would hardly have been his dupe to suppose him indifferent and his love of Adiante dead, had not the thought flashed on him a prospect of retaining the miniature for his own, or for long in his custody.

CHAPTER IX

THE CAPTAIN’S CABIN

Patrick left his brother at the second flight of stairs to run and fling on a shooting-jacket, into which he stuffed his treasure, after one peep that eclipsed his little dream of being allowed to keep it; and so he saw through Philip.