There is room for some pretty play, do you not think?"
"And the road is open behind you," chirped O'Sullivan in answer, "so that when the fear of God comes upon you, your long legs may beat a rub-a-dub-dub back to town."
Again Falcon's white teeth gleamed under his moustache.
"Tut, tut, my little pepper pot," he replied, "you are overdoing it now. I see that I can instruct the pedagogue in gentlemanly courtesy."
Deliberately he removed his coat, handed it to one of his men, rolled back the sleeve of his white shirt, exposing his powerful fore-arm, dark brown with the suns of many seas.
He drew his sword with a flourish and, lowering the point, turned to Meg Pearson.
"Permit me, Madame," he said, bowing, "to reassure the timorous heart that must needs dwell with so fair a face. I shall not kill our little pedagogue. To do so might put me to some bother in Charles Town. I shall make a hole in his right arm above the elbow and I think that within the next quarter hour he will lose a part of his left ear."
"Ugly Meg," said Mr. O'Sullivan testily, "if you don't want to see this long-winded, most damned pirate sent to hell, you can just ride up the road a little piece and smoke your pipe."
