“You’ll have my word for it!”
Tankred swung round on him.
“D’ you realize you’ll have to sneak ashore in a lancha and pass a double line o’ patrol? And then crawl into a town that’s reekin’ with yellow-jack, a town you’re not likely to crawl out of again inside o’ three months?”
“I know all that!” acknowledged Blake.
For the second time Tankred turned and studied the other man.
“And you’re still goin’ after your gen’leman friend from up North?” he inquired.
“Pip, I’ve got to get that man!”
“You’ve got ’o?”
“I’ve got to, and I’m going to!”
Tankred threw his cigar-end away and laughed leisurely and quietly.