"If you want to bump into Dodge," replied the millionaire, dryly, "try
it."
"Oh, it will be the whole thing--the yacht--when I start action! Devil
take the weather!"
"How the deuce did the beads happen to turn up here in Shanghai?"
"Morrissy brought them east from Naples. That's why his work to-night
puzzles me. All those weeks to play the crook in, and then to make a play
for it when he knew he could not put it over! Brain storm--and when he
comes to he'll probably be sorry. Well, keep your eye on the yacht."
Cunningham shouldered into his oilskin. "To-morrow at the Astor, between
three and five. By George, what a ripping idea--to steal the yacht! I'm
mad as a hatter, too. Good-night, Cleigh." And laughing, Cunningham went
twisting up the companionway, into the rain and the dark.
Cleigh stood perfectly still until the laughter became an echo and the
echo a memory.