Timothy hesitated.
“Come along to the drawing-room,” he said.
It was the one public room which would be empty at that time of the morning. Mr. Chelwyn deposited his hat and stick and brand-new yellow gloves before he spoke.
“Now, Mr. Anderson, I’ve come to tell you a few facts which will surprise you.”
“You haven’t had a gold brick sent to you by your Uncle George in Alaska, have you?” asked Timothy dubiously. “Because I’m not buying that kind of fact.”
The man smiled and shook his head.
“It is hardly likely I should try that stuff on you, sir,” he said. “No, this is a much more serious matter. Before I go any farther I’ll tell you that I am not asking for money. I am grateful to you for what you did to me last night, Mr. Anderson. A crook has a wife and children the same as anybody else. I have been in this funny business for ten years, but now I’m out of it for good.” He looked round and dropped his voice, “Mr. Anderson, I told you last night that we’ve been five or six weeks away from England. Didn’t that sound strange to you?”
“Not to me,” said Timothy.
“That is because you don’t know the game,” said the man. “As a rule, when we’re working these liners, we go out to Cape Town and come back by the next ship that sails. What do you think we stayed at Funchal for—there’s no money in short voyages—it’s all on the long run from Madeira to Cape Town.”
“I haven’t the slightest idea,” said Timothy wearily. “I don’t even remember seeing you in Funchal——”