("Steady," thought Morgan.)
"But that's more important. And, if you liked, you could, I say, you could, help me a little in return… Are you sure there's nobody listening at that door?"
His tone was so gruffly and uneasily conspiratorial that Valvick peered out the door and closed all the portholes. Peggy said, earnestly:
"I don't think, Captain, you have the least idea how glad we'd be to make it up to you. If there's anything we can do—"
Whistler hesitated. He took another sip of whisky.
"I've just seen his lordship," he went on, as though he hated to make a confession, but that Hector Whistler was a desperate man. "He's — haaa — up in the air, because the emerald wasn't insured. He had the cheek to say I was drunk or careless, the??!!!£!!!/???% Vz YaV^Mold?!!!£?<£%!—that's what he said! He said it would never have happened if I had left it with him… "
"You haven't found it, by any chance, have you?" asked Morgan.
"No! I have searched this ship with fifteen picked men from fo'c's'le-head to rudder, and I have not found it, young man. Now, then, be quiet and listen. I don't think he'll sue the line. But there's a question of law to be considered. That question is: Was I, or was I not, guilty of careless conduct? The emerald was technically in my possession, although I had not locked it in my safe. Show me the lubber," snarled Captain Whistler, glaring from one to the other of them, "who says I was guilty of careless conduct — contributory negligence — just show him to me, that's all. Let me so much as glimpse his sky-s'ls, and I'll make him regret the day his father first went courting. Am I guilty of careless conduct if four armed Dagoes take me from behind and give me the marlinspike with a bottle? Am I? No," was Captain Whistler's reply, delivered with a gesture like that of the late Marcus Tullius Cicero, "no, I am not. Well, then. If somebody would tell old Sturton that I was murderously set on without a chance to defend myself… Mind, I don't want you to tell him you saw me attacked. If there's any lying to be done, sink me! I can do it myself. But if you could tell him you are able to swear, from your own observation at the time, that you believed me to be the victim of a ruthless attack… well, the money don't count much with him, and I'm pretty certain he won't sue… How about it?" inquired the captain, suddenly lowering his voice to a startlingly more normal tone.
There was a chorus of assent.
"You'll do it?" Whistler demanded.