Brisson leered. "You've got me there," he confessed. "I can't lay my hand on the son of a gun that did that."
Prelice nodded. Possibly Agstone had turned on his tyrant to send him below; but it was impossible to say who had sent Agstone to join the baronet. "About Madame Marie, now. Is that her real name?" he inquired.
"Oh yes. Marie Eppingrave. She's the daughter of a Tahiti merchant and a French lady. There's no half-caste rubbish about Madame, you bet. She's got cash too—this yacht, and a slap-up island all to herself. Why she wants to collect Jadby into her life, I dunno; but there, you can't understand womenfolk."
"You like Madame Marie?"
"Seeing she nursed me through a yellow fever bout and gave me this command, I do," said the man of the sea. "A good sort is Madame, with a temper of sorts, of course, as every woman should have. She'd knife a man as soon as look at him, and nurse him square after her temper had busted. Wish she'd knife Jadby. He's a rotten beach-comber."
"Humph!" Prelice thought for the space of half a cigar. "And Madame Marie's fortune-telling?"
"Well, I guess there's no explanation of that, my lord. She's got piles of cash; but maybe her heart's in them hocus-pocus things. I've seen her do some rum business on occasions. When she looks at you, you feel cold water freezing your spine. Can't say I'd like to have her to be Mrs. Brisson, even if I put my old gal into her wooden overcoat. But Madame Marie's a dandy fine woman. No mistake about that."
In suchlike conversation did the two wile away the time until ten o'clock, then they went on deck. Brisson was quite willing to allow Prelice to accompany him, as he had grown to like the young man, and, moreover, was ready to take his word that he would not try to escape. But Prelice warned him that he would make trouble to save Mona if needful, and Brisson being on the side of Madame Marie was agreeable that it should be so. Besides, he had a sneaking liking for Prelice's somewhat stormy wooing, and wished to help him. Perhaps a strong dislike for Jadby had something to do with Brisson's attitude.
It was a perfect night, lighted by a brilliant moon and countless stars. A warm wind was blowing from the land, and far up on the heights twinkled the innumerable lights of Folkstone. The Kanaro rocked at anchor a stone's throw from the shore, and many other vessels of a less piratical nature were anchored in the harbour. The water shone like a sheet of silver, and the green and red riding-lights of the ships glittered in the sheeny depths. Prelice leaned over the side of the boat, and strained his eyes to see if any craft was approaching the Kanaro, but for quite half-an-hour he beheld nothing. However, he was tolerably certain that Jadby would come carrying Mona with him, and felt if his revolver was ready in his hip-pocket. If need be, he was resolved to shoot the buccaneer; and who can blame him, considering how basely Jadby had acted?
It was when the clock from the church tower boomed out eleven that the trouble came. Brisson laid his big hand on Prelice's arm, and pointed to a boat which was putting off from a somewhat deserted part of the shore. Three figures were in it, two rowing and one seated holding the tiller-ropes. The rowers were labouring hard to reach the Kanaro, and Prelice saw through his glass that other figures on the land were launching another boat to follow.