Baggin must have felt rather than observed the scrutiny, for suddenly he looked up and caught the sailor's eye.
"Eh?" he asked, as though to some unspoken question. Then, "Where is Grayson?"
Again the smile on the swart face of the Brazilian.
"He is here," he said, as a stout figure in white ducks shuffled awkwardly along the canting deck.
He came opposite to Baggin; and, drawing a chair towards him with a grunt, he dropped into it with a crash.
"You grow fatter, my friend," said Baggin.
"Fatter!" gasped the other. "Of course I'm fatter! No exercise—this cursed ship! Oh, what a fool, what a fool I've been!"
"Forget it," said Baggin. He took a long gold case from his inside pocket, opened it, and selected with care a black cheroot. "Forget it."
"I wish I could! I'd give half-a-million to be safe in the hands of the Official Receiver! I'd give half-a-million to be serving five years in Sing Sing! Baggin," he said, with comic earnestness, "we've got to compromise! It's got to be done. Where do we stand, eh?"
Baggin puffed leisurely at his cigar, but made no attempt to elucidate the position.