“Hallibut’s schooner left for Rond Eau to-day, and I think Amos Broadcrook will not allow me to lose the wager he believes I made with the dear Colonel. He is waiting for the vessel to drop anchor.”
“Then you think the schooner will burn?”
“If I read Amos aright—well, yes, I do. Although, let us hope not; let us hope not.”
“Then, when will we kidnap the wood-nymph?” asked Watson. “She must be got rid of, for Simpson threatens to undo our little plans if we fail him, you know.”
“Yes, I know,” answered Smythe. “Well, we’ll not disappoint Simpson. Three people there are who must become American citizens soon, and stay American citizens: Old Noah, Simpson, and——”
He clicked his tongue and Watson looked with some sort of admiration at his friend.
“Smythe, you’re a great man,” he asserted.
Smythe raised his weak eyes toward the lowering skies.
“God knows,” he sighed. “God knows best, my friend. I try to do my little part well. ’Tis all that I can do.”
A little further on Watson broke the oppressive silence again. “When will we do it, then?”