His glance travelled to the emerald in Morgan's hand.
"So you two," said Captain Whistler, "were the real thieves, after all. I might have known it. I was a fool not to see it first off last night… Don't move! All right, Mr. Baldwin. Move out and see if they're armed. Steady now…" -
17 — Bermondsey Carries On
There were, as they afterwards reflected, several courses that thoughtful men might have pursued. Even thoughtful men, however, would have conceded that these two conspirators were fairly in the soup. If at one time explanations might have been made to Captain Whistler, both Morgan and Valvick realised that by this time the Parcae hud no tangled matters up that it was practically impossible to explain anything. Morgan himself doubted whether even hull an hour's lucid thought would enable him to explain the situation to himself. Yet there are certain courses which thoughtful men deplore — those courses are elementary, like a reflex action, and spring to the muscles horn a prompting older than reason. Captain Valvick, for Instance, might have held out the steel box. He might have tin own the box on the floor at Whistler's feet, and surrendered in explanation. (a plain Valvick did nothing of the kind, lie threw that steel box, in fact, straight at the light in the roof of Cabin C 46, where it spattered glass and extinguished the same in one reverberating pop. Then he nearly yanked Morgan's arm from his socket swinging him out before himself into the passage and slamming the door behind.
Morgan dimly heard Whistler's avenging yell. Flung against the opposite bulkhead, he bounced back in time!» hear a weight of bodies thud against the door inside.
"Dat old Barnacle!" roared Valvick, whose powerful hands were firmly clamped on the knob at the door as he held it. "Dat!&—£./&???(!! ay show him! He t'ank we iss t'ieves, eh? By jumping Yudas, ay show him. Nobody effer tell me dat before; nobody! Ay show him. Qvick, lad; rope! Ve got to get rope and tie de door shut… "
"Wassermarrer?" inquired a voice behind Morgan.
The voice had to speak loudly and hoarsely, because insane riot banged at the door inside, mingled with baffled bellowings from the Queen Victoria's skipper. Morgan spun round, to see that the door of Cabin C 47 was open. Framed in the doorway, his shoulders filling it and wriggling out at either side, stood a young man who was likewise so tall that he had to bend his head to peer out. He had a flattened countenance and a ruminating jaw like a philosophical cow.
"Coroosh!" roared Valvick, with a blast of thankfulness. He panted. "Bermondsey! Iss dat you?"
"Ho!" said the Bermondsey Terror, his face lighting up. "Sir!"