"If I do, will you let me go?"
"I make no bargains. Out with it."
Burgh looked black, but being tired out and at the mercy of Rupert's revolver, he growled sulkily, "It was Aunt Lavinia."
"Miss Pewsey--that frail little woman--impossible."
"Frail," echoed the Buccaneer with scorn, "she's as tough as hickory and as wicked a little devil as ever breathed. Why, she learned about the fan from Forge when he was delirious, and gave away the show to Lo-Keong in China--"
"I know that. And she wished Olivia to have the fan, that she might be killed."
"That's so, you bet. But old Wharf got it, and so, was killed."
"But not by Tung-yu, or Hwei."
"No." Burgh took a final drink, and having emptied the flask, flung it into the river. Then he took out a cigarette, which was dry enough to light. When smoking, he began to laugh. "Well this is a rum show," said he. "I guess you've got all the fun. I'm sold proper."
"Tell me your story," said Rupert imperatively, "I want to get back to Penter's Alley to see your aunt."