"And you mean to tell me that you put yourself entirely in the hands of
Seymour Michael?" pursued the Doctor.
"Yes, why not?"
Mark Ruthine shook his head with a little laugh. "I always thought, Agar,
that you were a bit of a fool!"
"I have sometimes suspected it myself," admitted the soldier meekly.
"Why, man," said Ruthine, "Seymour Michael is one of the biggest rascals
on God's earth. I would not trust him with fourpence round the corner."
"Nor would I," put in the Captain, "and the sum is not excessive."
Jem Agar was sipping his whisky and soda with the placidity of a giant
who fears no open fight and never thinks of foul play.
"I don't see," he muttered, "what harm he can do me."
"No more do I, at the moment," replied the Doctor; "but the man is a liar
and an unscrupulous cad. I have kept an eye on him for years because he
interests me. He has never run a straight course since he came into the
field; he has consistently sacrificed truth, honour, and his best friend
to his own ambition ever since the beginning.
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