Loristan had continued examining the paper.
``Tell him,'' he said, when he refolded and handed it back,
``that I studied his map, and he may be proud of it. You may
also tell him--'' and he smiled quietly as he spoke--``that in my
opinion he is right. The Iarovitch would have held Melzarr
to-day if he had led them.''
Marco was full of exultation.
``I thought you would say he was right. I felt sure you would.
That is what makes me want to tell you the rest,'' he hurried on.
``If you think he is right about the rest too--'' He stopped
awkwardly because of a sudden wild thought which rushed upon him.
``I don't know what you will think,'' he stammered. ``Perhaps it
will seem to you as if the game--as if that part of it
could--could only be a game.''
He was so fervent in spite of his hesitation that Loristan began
to watch him with sympathetic respect, as he always did when the
boy was trying to express something he was not sure of. One of
the great bonds between them was that Loristan was always
interested in his boyish mental processes--in the way in which
his thoughts led him to any conclusion.
``Go on,'' he said again. ``I am like The Rat and I am like you.
It has not seemed quite like a game to me, so far.''
He sat down at the writing-table and Marco, in his eagerness,
drew nearer and leaned against it, resting on his arms and
lowering his voice, though it was always their habit to speak at
such a pitch that no one outside the room they were in could
distinguish what they said.
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