"Ha ha-ha!" he said. "Well, old boy, what did you do In Woodcock? What's Woodcock got to do with this?"
"Now do you think I got out of the jug, anyhow?" demanded Warren. "It was a stratagem, I'm telling you, and i damned good stratagem, if you ask me. I asked you before, What did Lord Gerald do in Chapter Nine? And I'll tell you. The trick was this. If they thought he was safely locked up, then he could prowl as he liked and get the evidence that would hang the guilty man. That was my position… So I had to have a substitute to take my place in they wouldn't suspect anything. And if I do say it myself, I worked it pretty well — though I'll have to hand the teal credit to you, Hank." He removed his whiskers to talk the better.
"Woodcock was definitely the one person I could summon to me so that he'd come any time I liked, wasn't he? Right. Well I carefully prepared my ground by seeming to sleep all afternoon, so they'd get used to it; I refused dinner and everything. Then I wrote a note to Woodcock. I said I had news from my Uncle Warpus, and to come down to the brig at exactly seven o'clock. Just before this, I told him to have a message sent in the captain's name to the sailor on guard — I'd learned his name — to get him away for ten minutes, so there'd be nobody to hear when we talked business. I asked the sailor whether I could send a message, and he said he supposed it was all right, but he couldn't leave to take it; so they sent a pageboy. The only thing was, I was afraid somebody might read it, so—" Warren glanced round with triumphant glee, rubbing his hands.
"Masterly," said Morgan in a hollow voice.
"So what did I do? I ripped the book apart. There's always the heavy mucilage sticking the cover to the inside flaps of the book; and I tore out one of the flaps and sealed it. And it worked! Good old Charley came through. The sailor didn't like to leave when the fake message came through; but he saw there were bolts on the outside of the door I couldn't move, and I was asleep, anyway." Warren made a gesture. "Down comes Woodcock and says, 'You've got it, have you?' And I said, 'Yes; just pull back those bolts and open the door for a second; I don't want to get out, but I'll have to give you this.' So he opened the door. And I said, 'Look here, old man, I'm damned sorry, but you know how it is,' and I let him have it in the jaw… "
"Darling!" said Peggy. "Oh, you poor dear idiot. Why didn't you make him tell before you hit him?… Oh, confound it all, if you'd only done what I wanted you to, if you'd only tortured him before you hit him! Oh, dear… and now look what's happened, with all this nasty fighting and torturing!" She wrung her hands. "Abdul and Uncle Jules, look at them! And unless we can get them on their feet there'll be no performance. Listen! I can hear the crowd upstairs already… "
She snatched the bottle from Warren's hand and strengthened herself with a draught. A wheel seemed to go round behind her eyes. "The n-nasty d-drunken b-beasts!" said Peggy; "the—"
"My deah!" said Mrs. Perrigord, "Oh, I say, I don't know what has kick-happened, but I think it was most owfully clevah of Mr. Joyce to torture oil those people, and get out of gaol, I do, reolly, especially as it was Henry's idea, and I think we reolly might have the courtesy to offer Mi, Lawrence a glass of champagne… "
"Silence!" roared Morgan. "Listen, Peggy, the performance doesn't matter now; hasn't that occurred to you? Have you realised that we're saddled again with that blasted emerald… which Curt swears he got out of Kyle's cabin? Curt, come to your senses. You couldn't have got it out of Kyle's cabin, I tell you! Lord Sturton—"
Warren shook his head tolerantly, agitating the curls of the savage black wig that was jammed over one ear.