My great-uncle was poring over the chart of the Caribbean which so frequently engaged his attention, but he glanced up as he heard the shuffling of our feet on the carpet. A furrow of perplexity was dug betwixt his eyes. Otherwise he revealed no astonishment.
"So! You two have taken matters into your own hands! Did you by any chance slay Flint?"
"We might have," I answered. "But we did not."
"A pity in the circumstances," he ruminated. "'Ods-blood! Here is a pretty coil! Peter, I'll wager I have you to thank for it."
"Ja," said Peter, and sat himself in his accustomed place at the table.
"'Tis true," I agreed, "that without Peter we might not have escaped, but the responsibility is equally mine."
"How did you compass it?"
I told him, and he stared curiously at Peter, placidly eating across the table from him.
"I might have known it, Peter. No man ever held you in constraint against your will. I might have known it. What a mess! My plans and combinations all askew! Peter, y' have played at bowls with destiny! A half-hour since I saw my way clear. Now I must plot it fresh. Stap me, what a coil!"
He rose and started to walk the cabin, hands clasped behind him, head on his chest. Suddenly he paused in front of me.