The younger man again studied Orme’s face. “Can you give me your word that the circumstances would justify us in ramming that boat?”
It flashed over Orme that he had no idea what those circumstances were. He knew only what little the girl had told him. Yet she had assured him again and again that the papers were of the greatest importance. True, throughout the affair, thus far, with the exception of the blow he had given Maku, the persons concerned had offered no dangerous violence. The mysterious papers might contain information about South American mines—as little Poritol had suggested; they might hold the secrets of an international syndicate. Whatever they were, it was really doubtful whether the necessity of their recovery would justify the possible slaying of another man.
Perhaps the girl had unconsciously exaggerated their value. Women who took a hand in business often lost the sense of relative importance. And yet, she had been so sure; she had herself gone to such lengths. Then, too, the South Americans had hired a burglar to break into her father’s house, and now this Japanese had abducted her. Yes, it was a serious game.
Orme answered Porter. “I give you my word,” he said.
Porter nodded and tightened his lips.
“At the very least, that fellow has tried to abduct this young lady,” added Orme.
“All right,” said Porter. “Let her go.”
The other boat had drifted about fifty feet away. Orme called out.
“Hello, there, Japanese. Will you give up the papers.”
No answer came.