Commodore Junk — page 312: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

A FRESH ALARM. 305 She uttered a low cry ; and as Humphrey listened he heard low, quick talking, a faint rustling overhead, and then the sound of the voices died away. “ Discovered !” said Humphrey, bitterly. ‘Fate is working against me now. Better, as she said, to die.” A quarter cf an hour’s silence ensued, and conscious that at any moment he might be watched, as far as the deep gloom would allow, Humphrey seated himself upon the edge of the old stone altar, and folded his arms, to see what would be the next buffet of fate he was to bear. He had not long to wait. There was the sound of a challenge at the end of the cor- ridor, and a quick reply, followed by an angry muttering, and Humphrey laughed mockingly. “Master and dog!” he said, bitterly. ‘ Mistress and dog, I ought to say.” He drew himself up, for he heard a well-known step coming quickly along the passage. The curtain was snatched aside, and the buccaneer took a dozen strides into the place and stopped, looking round. “Where are you?” cried the buccaneer, in a harsh, imperious voice, deep almost as that of a man. There was no reply. “Where are you, I say?” was repeated imperiously. ‘“ Are you ashamed to speak ?” “No! What do you want?” The buccaneer started in surprise, and faced round. “ Are you there? Coward! Traitor! This explains all. This is the meaning of the haughty contempt—the miserable coldness. And for a woman like that—the mistress of the vilest slave among the men. Humphrey Armstrong—you, the brave officer, to stoop to this! Shame upon you! Shame!” “ Woman, are you mad }” t Gomilcbooks