I finished on my legs, my back to the fire, my hands beating wildly together.

I had told my dear Rattray of my own accord more than living man had extracted from me yet.

He interrupted me very little; never once until I came to the murderous attack by Santos on the drunken steward.
"The brute!" cried Rattray.

"The cowardly, cruel, foreign devil! And you never let out one word of that!" "What was the good ?" said I."They are all gone now--all gone to their account.

Every man of us was a brute at the last.