"This morning," continued Sturton, "you stated to me that you could bring him. Why isn't he here? Won't he come?"
Whistler jerked himself out of his hypnotised stare. "Yes, yes, of course. Your Lordship. I — ah — that is, I'm sure he'll be glad to come."
"I repeat to you," squeaked the other, snapping his linger on the Mandarin's head until the rubies winked demoniacally, "that, as this little trial by the court may cost me fifty thousand pounds, I must insist on a direct answer. Don't quibble with me. Don't spoil my entertainment. He was the witness I especially asked for, and the only witness I especially asked for. Why didn't you bring him?"
"It was not exactly convenient…." said Whistler, his voice beginning to rise to a roar despite himself. His eye rolled round at Morgan, who could only shrug.
"Ah!" said Sturton. "Signals, eh? Signals. Now then… "
"If you will allow me to go and find him, your Lordship—"
"Once and for all, I demand, I insist on an answer! Where is he?"
All caution boarded the Flying Dutchman and sailed away. "He's in the brig-, you dried-up lubber!" roared Captain Whistler, exploding at last. "He's in the brig. And now I'm going to tell you what I think of you and your ruddy elephant and your—"
Sturton was laughing again.
It was an unholy noise in that gloomy, ill-smelling place, with the rubies winking on the table and Sturton's head bobbing under the broad hat. "Ah." he said, "that's better! That's more like yourself. I'd heard the news, you see. He's in the brig. Yes, yes, Exactly. Why did you put him there?"