able to attend to me for a moment, Captain
Brassbound?

BRASSBOUND (still walking about). What do you want?

SIR HOWARD. Well, I am afraid I want a little privacy, and, if you will
allow me to say so, a little civility. I am greatly obliged to you for
bringing us safely off to-day when we were attacked. So far, you have
carried out your contract. But since we have been your guests here,
your tone and that of the worst of your men has changed--intentionally
changed, I think.

BRASSBOUND (stopping abruptly and flinging the announcement at him). You
are not my guest: you are my prisoner.

SIR HOWARD. Prisoner!

Lady Cicely, after a single glance up, continues stitching, apparently
quite unconcerned.

BRASSBOUND. I warned you. You should have taken my warning.

SIR HOWARD (immediately taking the tone of cold disgust for moral
delinquency). Am I to understand, then, that you are a brigand? Is this
a matter of ransom?

BRASSBOUND (with unaccountable intensity). All the wealth of England
shall not ransom you.

SIR HOWARD. Then what do you expect to gain by this?

BRASSBOUND. Justice on a thief and a murderer.

Lady Cicely lays down her work and looks up anxiously.

SIR HOWARD (deeply outraged, rising with venerable dignity). Sir: do you
apply those terms to me?

BRASSBOUND. I do. (He turns to Lady Cicely, and adds, pointing
contemptuously to Sir Howard) Look at him. You would not take this
virtuously indignant gentleman for the uncle of a brigand, would you?

Sir Howard starts. The shock is too much for him: he sits down again,
looking very old; and his hands tremble; but his eyes and mouth are
intrepid, resolute, and angry.

LADY CICELY. Uncle! What do you mean?

BRASSBOUND. Has he never told you about my mother? this fellow who puts
on ermine and scarlet and calls himself Justice.

SIR HOWARD (almost voiceless). You are the son of that woman!

BRASSBOUND (fiercely). "That woman!" (He makes a movement as if to rush
at Sir Howard.)

LADY CICELY (rising quickly and putting her hand on his arm). Take care.
You mustn't strike an old man.

BRASSBOUND (raging). He did not spare my mother--"that woman," he
calls her--because of her sex. I will not spare him because of his age.
(Lowering his tone to one of sullen vindictiveness) But I am not going
to strike him. (Lady Cicely releases him, and sits down, much perplexed.
Brassbound continues, with an evil glance at Sir Howard) I shall do no
more than justice