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Updated: June 25, 2025
"Then there's the ''Frisco Pet, or the 'Pride of Golden Gate, as some of the sporting papers call him." "The 'Frisco Pet!" Lord Ronsdale started; his color slightly changed; his lashes drooped over his cold eyes. "He is on board this vessel?" "Yes; you remember him, my Lord, I dare say?" "In common with many others," shortly.
But the old man's sensibilities had been cruelly shocked; Ronsdale, the son of his old friend, a miserable coward who, if the truth were known, would be asked to resign from every club he belonged to! And he, Sir Charles, had desired a closer bond between him and one he loved well, his own niece! Perhaps John Steele divined why the hearty old man's face had grown so grave.
Did you ever notice his fist? It might belong to a prize-fighter, except that the hands are perfectly kept! You'd know at once he was a man accustomed to fighting, who would sweep aside obstacles, get what he wanted!" "Think so?" Lord Ronsdale smoked steadily. "You, as a magistrate, I suppose, know him well?" "Should hardly go that far; taciturn chap, don't you know!
"Rather a simple way of getting rid of undesirables transportation it has always seemed to me," dissented Lord Ronsdale. "Don't they sometimes escape and come back to England?" asked the girl. "Not apt to, when death for returning stares them in the face," remarked the nobleman. "Death!" The girl shivered slightly. John Steele smiled.
"Joe hurried you out, toward a rear exit, but not before," leaning slightly toward Lord Ronsdale, "an impression of your face, pale, drawn, had vaguely stamped itself on the befuddled brain," bitterly, "of the fool-brute. You lost no time in making your escape; little was said between you and Joe; but he proved amenable to your suggestion; the way out of the difficulty was found.
"No doubt of it. They were not released until the second boat got off, and then there was no time to get overboard the life rafts!" "True." Lord Ronsdale gazed absently out of the window, through a film, as it were, at a venerable figure below; one of the species helluo librorum standing before a book-stall opposite.
As Steele and his companion together with Jocelyn Wray entered, sounds of merriment and applause greeted the ear; two men in fencing array who had apparently just ended a match were the center of an animated company. "A little contest with the foils! A fencing bout! Good!" exclaimed Forsythe. Jocelyn Wray walked over to the group and Forsythe followed. "Bravo, Ronsdale!"
But if you are ready, m'lord m'lady " "Quite! Egad! I'm curious to have a look at the fellow. Used to like to see a good honest set-to myself occasionally, before I became ahem! governor!" And rising with alacrity, Sir Charles assisted his lady from her chair. "Coming, Ronsdale?" "Believe I won't go down," drawled the nobleman at the rail. "Air better up here," he explained.
Gillett smiled sympathetically. "One, if I recall rightly," went on Lord Ronsdale, "was known as let me see" the elastic stick described a sharper curve "the 'Frisco Pet? Remember?" He bent slightly nearer. "That I do. Not likely to forget him. Unmanageable; one of the worst! Was transported for life, with death as a penalty for returning." A slight sound came from the nobleman's throat.
The latter's eyes suddenly narrowed; a covert expectancy made itself felt in his manner. "Aren't you going to roll up your sleeve?" he asked softly. "Usually find it gives greater freedom of movement, myself." Steele did not at once reply; in his eyes bent on Ronsdale a question seemed to flash; then a bolder, more daring light replaced it.
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