"I don't converse no more," said Jessop in a shaky voice, and staggered to his feet, rapidly growing sober under the influence of a deadly fear. Hurd did not move as the man crossed the room, but felt if the key was safe in his pocket. The sailor tried to open the door, and then realized that it was locked. He turned on his host with a volley of bad language, and found himself facing a levelled revolver.
"Sit down," said Hurd, quietly; "go back to your chair."
Jessop, with staring eyes and outspread hands, backed to the wall. "Who are you anyhow?" he demanded, hardly able to speak.
"Perhaps that will tell you," said Hurd, and threw the warrant on the table. Jessop staggered forward and looked at it. One glance was sufficient to inform him what it was, and he sank back into his chair with a groan, leaving the warrant on the table. Hurd picked it up and slipped it into his pocket. He thought Jessop might destroy it; but there was no fight in the mariner.
"And now that we understand one another," said Hurd, putting away his weapon, "I want to talk."
"Sha'n't talk," said Jessop, savagely.
"Oh, yes, I think so; otherwise I can make things unpleasant for you."
"You can't arrest me. I've done nothing."
"That may be so, but arrest you I can and I have done so now. To-morrow morning you will go to London in charge of a plain-clothes policeman, while I go to Stowley."
"To my crib. No, I'm blest if you do."