Jem shook hands with him.
"I'm all right, thanks," he said curtly, in answer to Seymour Michael's
inquiry.
"Good business--good business," exclaimed the General, who seemed
somewhat unnecessarily excited.
"Old Mark Ruthine too!" he went on. "You look as fit as ever. Still
turning your thousands out of the British public--eh!"
"Yes," said Ruthine, "thank you."
"Just run ashore for half an hour, I suppose?" continued Seymour Michael,
looking hurriedly out towards the _Mahanaddy_.
"No," replied Ruthine, "I leave the ship here."
The small man glanced from the face of one to the other with something
sly and uneasy in his eyes.
Jem Agar had altered since he saw him last in the little tent far up on
the slopes of the Pamir. He was older and graver. There was also a wisdom
in his eyes--that steadfast wise look that comes to eyes which have
looked too often on death. Mark Ruthine he knew, and him he distrusted,
with that quiet keenness of observation which was his.
"Now," he said eagerly to Jem, "what I thought we might do was to have a
little breakfast and catch the eleven o'clock train up to town.
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