"All the more credit to me when I have solved the mystery unaided," cried Lachlan lightly. He called the black boy to him, paid his score, pushed back his chair and arose.
"Good-night to you, Almayne," he said.
"Where now?" the hunter asked gruffly.
"The night's young," answered Lachlan. "There's time to make a beginning in this affair of Mam'selle Jolie Stanwicke, whom I still prefer to call the Lady Sanguilla. I think I shall pay a visit to a certain Captain Lance Falcon in his room at Ramage's tavern. Perhaps I can learn from him what I have failed to learn from you."
Almayne's eyes narrowed. "He'll twist your neck," the hunter said briefly.
"It's a tough neck and will endure considerable twisting," Lachlan answered. He turned and moved towards the door.
Almayne spread his hands in a gesture of resignation.
"Sit down, Lachlan McDonald, Gentleman," he said gloomily, "I am in charge of the affair of Mistress Jolie Stanwicke, and Captain Lance Falcon is her enemy and mine. Since you are bound to meddle in what does not concern you, there are certain things that you had better know."
