The suggestion, once offered, would not down. It was, he told himself, the very thing to be expected. With him out of the way, Howard would be freed from the shadow of the gallows. He alone—except Miss Fairfax, and what was a girl’s life—he alone knew that Howard had survived the wreck of the Queen. With him dead, Howard—supposing that he could regain dry land—could live out his life in safety. And what was a policeman’s life to one whose hands were already stained with the blood of his own wife?
Jackson drew a long breath as conviction forced itself upon him. It was characteristic of the man that he did not whimper. He had been dealing with criminals for twenty years, and conceded them the right to fight for their own hand. He had always declared that he would take his dose when it came without doing the baby act; and, by George, he would keep his word.
Hope had vanished when Howard reappeared. In his hand was a boat’s tackle, which he proceeded to hitch to a davit that projected over Jackson’s head. But, instead of dropping down the other end, he quietly seated himself on the bulwarks and stared thoughtfully at the man below.
“Well, Jackson,” he remarked, deliberately, “our positions seem to be reversed.”
The policeman scowled. “Damn you, yes,” he responded, truculently.
An expression of admiration floated over Howard’s face. “By Jove, Jackson!” he cried. “You’re all right. I didn’t think you had the nerve to speak up like that under the circumstances. ‘What dam of lances brought you forth to jest at the dawn with death?’ That’s from Kipling, Jackson, if you do not recognize it.”
“G’wan. If you’re goin’ to murder me, do it. You’ve had experience, all right.”
“Fie! fie! Jackson! Call things by their proper names. This wouldn’t be any murder. But, there”—Howard’s voice grew stern—“enough of this. I see you realize the situation. All I have to do is to leave you where you are, and to-morrow I will be a free man. But I am not going to do it; I am going to pull you up in a minute. But I want you to realize that I have deliberately put aside the best chance possible to free myself from your surveillance, and I want you to cease dogging my footsteps and watching me everywhere I go. I don’t ask you to let me escape or anything like that, but I do ask you to act on my suggestions without any talk of not letting me out of your sight. Our escape from this wreckage may any day depend on your prompt obedience, and I want you to obey. In return, I reiterate my assertion—which you did not believe—that I am even more anxious than you are to get back to dry land; and in addition I promise you, on the word of an officer and a gentleman, that if I do get back, you and Miss Fairfax shall go, too. I will not desert you, even though I know you will arrest me the moment you have force enough at hand to do it. Now, put your foot in the hook on this block, and I’ll haul you up.”
Jackson caught the block that Howard dropped, and put his foot in it mechanically. He was a slow thinker, and Howard’s words bewildered him for the moment; later he would realize their import. Anyhow, now was the time to act; the time to think would come later. So he grasped the rope and waited while his former prisoner hoisted him up to the deck.
Once there he turned to Howard and opened his mouth. But that individual checked him with a smile.