The cut-throat leered. On his head he placed rather rakishly a spiked helmet of brass set with emeralds and rubies; so that he could the better reach under an elaborate green robe, where he fumbled a moment, and then laid on the tray two American twenty-dollar bills. The bottles were mysteriously whisked inside by what appeared to be feminine hands behind the warrior. Then, as the steward hastened away, the warrior drew from its scabbard a broad curved scimitar and squinted evilly up and down the passage. Seeing Valvick and Morgan, he beckoned.
"Well?" inquired the voice of Curtis Warren, as the two conspirators tumbled into the dressing-room and Valvick locked the door. "Did you get it back all right? Did you…?" The warrior stared. Thoughtfully he pushed his helmet forward and scratched his wig. "What's the idea, Hank? You've still got the emerald! Look… "
Morgan nodded wearily. He glanced round. Uncle Jules was on the couch again, sprawled wide, while Peggy was trying to raise his head and insinuate a second dose of baking-soda under his twitching nose. There was a sharp plob as Mrs. Perrigord dexterously opened a bottle of champagne.
"You explain, Skipper." said Morgan, sadly juggling the emerald in his palm. "Suffice it to say that the game is up. U-up. Go on, Captain."
Valvick sketched out a rough outline. "You mean," said Warren, quakes and bubbles beginning to show under his ferocious moustache—"you mean the Bermondsey Terror is down there murdering the old sardine for stealing Hank's watch? Why, oh why wasn't I there to see it? Yee-ow! I'd have given anything to see it! Curse the rotten luck, why do I have to miss every good thing…?"
Tears had come into Peggy's eyes again.
"lint," she protested, "why, oh why can't you lay off the poor old captain? What have you got against him, anyway? Why must you go about assaulting the poor dear captain every time you get out of my sight? It isn't fair. It isn't just, after he said he almost had a daughter like me off Cape Hatteras. It—"
"Owful!" said Mrs. Perrigord, clucking her tongue reprovingly. "You owful, naughty boys, you. Have some champagne."
"Well, why hass he got to be dere, anyway?" demanded Valvick, hotly. "Ay tell you de old Barnacle call me a thief, and now ay am mad. Ay going to find out who iss at de bottom of diss business if ay haff to sving from de yard-arm lor it. And ay mean it."
"He was only trying to do his duty, Skipper," said Morgan. "We ought to have been warned. You heard what ho said this afternoon: he wanted to have the honour of nabbing Kyle for himself. He and the second officer were probably there searching the cabin when they heard us coming. They ducked into the bathroom and when they opened the door and saw us they thought… well, what would you have thought? Skipper, it's no go. They'll be Having a search party out for us in five minutes. The only thing to do is to go to Whistler, try to explain, and take our medicine. God knows what they'll do to us; plenty, I should think. But… there you are."