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impossible to surprise him。 Cleggett took this position less through any
positive fear of attack than because he possessed the instinct of the born
strategist。 Cleggett was like Robert E。 Lee in his quick grasp of a
situation and； indeed； in other respectsalthough Cleggett would never
under any circumstances have countenanced human slavery。
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There were only two men in the place when Cleggett took his seat； the
bartender and a fellow who was evidently a waiter。 He had entered the
west door and walked across the room without looking at them；
withholding his gaze purposely。 When he looked towards the bar； after
seating himself； the waiter； with his back towards Cleggett's corner； was
talking in a low tone to the bartender。 But they had both seen him；
Cleggett perceived they both knew him。
〃See what the gentleman wants； Pierre；〃 said the bartender in a voice
too elaborately casual to hide his surprise at seeing Cleggett。
The waiter turned and came towards him； and Cleggett saw the man's
face for the first time。 It was a face that Cleggett never forgot。 Cleggett
judged the man to be a Frenchman； he was dark and sallow； with nervous；
black eyebrows； and a smirk that came and went quickly。 But the
unforgettable feature was a mole that grew on his upper lip； on the right
side； near the base of his flaring nostril。 Many moles have hairs in them；
Pierre's mole had not merely half a dozen hairs； but a whole crop。 They
grew thick and long； and； with a perversion of vanity almost inconceivable
in a sane person； Pierre had twisted these hairs together； as a man twists a
mustache； and had trained them to grow obliquely across his cheek bone。
He was a big fellow； for a Frenchman； and； as he walked towards Cleggett
with a mincing elasticity of gait； he smirked and caressed this whimsical
adornment。 Cleggett； fascinated； stared at it as the fellow paused before
him。 Pierre； evidently gratified at the sensation he was creating；
continued to smirk and twist； and then； seeing that he held his audience； he
took from his waistcoat pocket a little piece of cosmetic and； as a final
touch of Gallic grotesquerie； waxed the thing。 It was all done with that
air of quiet histrionicism； and with that sense of self…appreciation； which
only the French can achieve in its perfection。 〃You ordered； M'sieur？〃
Pierre； having produced his effect； like the artist （though debased） that he
was； did not linger over it。
〃Era Scotch highball；〃 said Cleggett； recovering himself。 〃And
with a piece of lemon peeling in it； please。〃
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Pierre served him deftly。 Cleggett stirred his drink and sipped it
slowly； gazing at the bartender； who elaborately avoided watching him。
But after a moment a little noise at his right attracted his attention。 Pierre；
with his hand cupped； had dashed it along a window pane and caught a big
stupid fly； abroad thus early in the year。 With a sense of almost
intolerable disgust； Cleggett saw the man； with a rapt smile on his face；
tear the insect's legs from it； and turn it loose。 If ever a creature rejoiced
in wickedness for its own sake； and as if its practice were an art in itself；
Pierre was that person； Cleggett concluded。 Knowing Pierre； one could
almost understand those cafes of Paris where the silly poets of degradation
ostentatiously affect the worship of all manner of devils。
An instant later； Pierre； as if he had been doing something quite
charming； looked at Cleggett with a grin； a grin that assumed that there
was some kind of an understanding between them concerning this
delightful pastime。 It was too much。 Cleggett； with an oathand never
stopping to reflect that it was perhaps just the sort of action which Pierre
hoped to provokegrasped his cane with the intention of laying it across
the fellow's shoulders half a dozen times； come what might； and leaving
the place。
But at that instant the door from the office opened and the man
whom he knew only as Loge entered the room。
Loge paused at the right of Cleggett； and then marched directly across
the room and sat down opposite the commander of the Jasper B。 at the
same table。 He was wearing the cutaway frock coat； and as he swung his
big frame into the seat one of his coat tails caught in the chair back and
was lifted。
Cleggett saw the steel butt of an army revolver。 Loge perceived by his
face that he had seen it； and laughed。
〃I've been wanting to talk to you；〃 he said； leaning across the table and
showing his yellow teeth in a smile which he perhaps intended to be
ingratiating。 Cleggett； looking Loge fixedly in the eye； withdrew his
right hand from beneath his coat； and laid his magazine pistol on the table
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under his hand。
〃I am at your service；〃 he said； steadily； giving back unwavering gaze
for gaze。 〃I am looking for some information myself； and I am in exactly
the humor for a little comfortable chat。〃
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THE CRUISE OF THE JASPER B。
CHAPTER XI
REPARTEE AND PISTOLS
Loge dropped his gaze to the pistol； and the smile upon his lips slowly
turned into a sneer。 But when he lifted his eyes to Cleggett's again there
was no fear in them。
〃Put up your gun；〃 he said； easily enough。 〃You won't have any use
for it here。〃
〃Thank you for the assurance；〃 said Cleggett； 〃but it occurs to me that
it is in a very good place where it is。〃
〃Oh； if it amuses you to play with it〃 said Loge。
〃It does；〃 said Cleggett dryly。
〃It's an odd taste；〃 said Loge。
〃It's a taste I've formed during the last few days on board my ship；〃
said Cleggett meaningly。
〃Ship？〃 said Loge。 〃Oh； I beg your pardon。 You mean the old hulk
over yonder in the canal？〃
〃Over yonder in the canal；〃 said Cleggett； without relaxing his
vigilance。
〃You've been frightened over there？〃 asked Loge； showing his teeth in
a grin。
〃No；〃 said Cleggett。 〃I'm not easily frightened。〃
Loge looked at the pistol under Cleggett's hand； and from the pistol to
Cleggett's face； with ironical gravity； before he spoke。 〃I should have
thought； from the way you cling to that pistol； that perhaps your nerves
might be a little weak and shaky。〃
〃On the contrary；〃 said Cleggett； playing the game with a face like a
mask； 〃my nerves are so steady that I could snip that ugly…looking skull
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THE CRUISE OF THE JASPER B。
off your cravat the length of this barroom away。〃
〃That would be mighty good shooting；〃 said Loge； turning in his chair
and measuring the distance with his eye。 〃I don't believe you could do it。
I don't mind telling you that _I_ couldn't。〃
〃While we are on the subject of your scarfpin；〃 said Cleggett； in whom
the slur on the Jasper B。 had been rankling； 〃I don't mind telling YOU that
I think that skull thing is in damned bad taste。 In fact； you are dressed
generally in damned bad taste。Who is your tailor？〃
Cleggett was gratified to see a dull flush spread over the other's face at
the insult。 Loge was silent a moment； and then he said； dropping his
bantering manner； which indeed sat rather heavily upon him： 〃I don't
know why you should want to shoot at my scarfpinor at me。 I don't
know why you should suddenly lay a pistol between us。 I don't； in short；
know why we should sit here paying each other left…handed compliments；
when it was merely my intention to make you a business proposition。〃
〃I have been waiting to hear what you