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Updated: May 5, 2025
It was Ruthine's voice that broke the silence, giving Jem time to master himself. "It is to his credit," he said, also addressing Dora, "that for very shame he did not dare to tell you that he had sent Agar on a mission which was as unnecessary as it was dangerous. When he sent him he must have known that it was almost a sentence of death." Then Jem spoke again.
"So did I," said Anna Agar. "I was the woman." Before the words were well out of her mouth Mark Ruthine's voice was raised in an alarmed shout. "Look out!" he cried. "Hold that man; he is mad!" No one had been noticing Arthur Agar no one except Seymour Michael, who had never taken his eyes from his face during Ruthine's narration.
"I knew," he hissed, "that the boy would tell you. I counted on it. Why did you not tell Miss Glynde? Come! Tell us why." Mark Ruthine's face was a study. It was the face of a very keen sportsman at the corner of a "drive." In every word he saw twice as much as simple Jem Agar ever suspected. "Well," answered Mrs. Agar, wavering, "because I thought it better not."
"Did you tell them personally, or did you write?" pursued Jem Agar relentlessly. "My dear fellow," replied Michael, pulling out his watch, "it is a long story, and we must get to the train." "No," replied Agar, in the calm voice which raised a sort of "fearful joy" in Ruthine's soul, "we need not be getting to the train yet, and there is no reason for it to be a long story."
It is the mere record of a few mistakes, culminating in Mark Ruthine's blunder a little note on human nature without vice in it; for there is little vice in human nature if one takes the trouble to sift that which masquerades as such.
Mark Ruthine's countenance- -a still one changes ever so slightly whenever he hears the name or sees it in print. Another outward sign, and, as such, naturally small. When the captain was introduced by a tall and refined old clergyman to Miss Norah Hood, he found himself shaking hands with a grave young person of unassertive beauty.
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