"James Peterson?"
"Ay."
"I know what became of him. He was drowned between the vessel and the wharf, in Martinique."
"No, he wasn't."
"What did become of him?"
"I can tell you what became of him if I like?"
"I believe you lie."
"Well, have it your own way, then."
The captain mused a moment. He knew Aldrich and Percival well; that there was no principle in either of them; had never believed the story that Peterson was in liquor, and fell overboard, but always mistrusted there had been some foul play. His suspicions were now thoroughly aroused, and he determined to sift the matter to the bottom.
"Come along with me," he said.