"I can only repeat," said Cleigh, "that you are all playing with
dynamite."
"Perhaps. Most of these boys fought in the war; they played the game; but
when they returned nobody had any use for them. I caught them on the
rebound, when they were a bit desperate. We formed a company--but of that
more anon. Will you be my guest, or will you be my prisoner?"
The velvet fell away from Cunningham's voice.
"Have I any choice? I'll accept the condition because I must. But I've
warned you. I suppose I'd better ask at once what the ransom is."
"Ransom? Not a copper cent! You can make Singapore in two days from the
Catwick."
"And for helping me into Singapore I'm to agree not to hand such men as
you leave me over to the British authorities?"
"All wrong! The men who will help you into Singapore or take you to Manila
will be as innocent as newborn babes. Wouldn't believe it, would you, but
I'm one of those efficiency sharks. Nothing left to chance; all cut and
dried; pluperfect. Cleigh, I never break my word. I honestly intended
turning over those beads to you, but Morrissy muddled the play."
"Next door to murder."
"Near enough, but he'll pull out."
"Are you going to take Miss Norman along?"
"What, set her ashore to sic the British Navy on us? I'm sorry. I don't
want her on board; but that was your play, not mine. You tried to
double-cross me. But you need have no alarm. I will kill the man who
touches her. You understand that, boys?"
The crew signified that the order was understood, though one of them--the
returned Flint--smiled cynically. If Cunningham noted the smile he made no
verbal comment upon it.
"Weigh anchor, then! Look alive! The sooner we nose down to the delta the
sooner we'll have the proper sea room."
The crew scurried off, and almost at once came familiar sounds--the rattle
of the anchor chain on the windlass, the creaking of pulley blocks as the
launch came aboard, the thud of feet hither and yon as portables were
stowed or lashed to the deck-house rail. For several minutes Cleigh and
Cunningham remained speechless and motionless.
"You get all the angles?" asked Cunningham, finally.
"Some of them," admitted Cleigh.
"At any rate, enough to make you accept a bad situation with good grace?"
"You're a foolhardy man, Cunningham. Do you expect me to lie down when
this play is over? I solemnly swear to you that I'll spend the rest of my
days hunting you down."