“Is this all your evidence?”
“It's enough, I guess.”
“Not to procure a warrant.”
“Why, a man in the States would be electrocuted on half the evidence.”
“I daresay,” retorted the little man with contempt, “but we are in a land where justice of the purest prevails. All your evidence is circumstantial. It proves nothing.”
The captain was considerably nettled.
“I calculate that it proves Sir Frank wanted the mummy, else why did he come on board my ship to see your infernal assistant. The words he used showed that he was warning Bolton how he'd do for him. And then he talked through the window, and was in the public-house, which ain't a place for an almighty aristocrat to shelter in. I guess he's the man wanted by the police. Why,” added Hervey, warming to his tale, “he'd a slap-up yacht laying near the blamed hotel, and could easily ship the corpse, after slipping it through the window. When he got tired of it, and looted the emeralds, he took it by boat, below the Fort, to Mrs. Jasher's garden and left it there, so as to pull the wool over the eyes of the police. It's as clear as mud to me. You search his lorship's shanty, and you'll find the emeralds.”
“It is strange,” muttered Braddock unwillingly.
“Strange, but not true,” said a voice from the head of the stairs, and young Hope came down leisurely, with a pale face, but a very determined air. “Random is absolutely innocent.”
“How do you know?” demanded the skipper contemptuously.