"Come, come," he said, bristling with official dignity, "we can't have this sort of thing here. You must not behave in this way."
"Oh, I mustn't, mustn't I?" screeched Shackel, shaking his fist. "Why, you son of a gun, ain't you run in my mate? How d'ye think I'm going to light out for the Islands without Finland?"
"You'll light out--as you call it--all alone, if Finland can't prove his innocence of this murder."
"Murder! Great Cæsar! he didn't kill the gal!"
"Oh yes, he did, and you know it! See here"--Chard caught the excited man by the arm--"you tried to blackmail Mr. Johnson by stating that he sold these pearls. Now, you knew quite well that Finland sold 'em. What do you mean by this game?"
"You mind your own business, and I'll run my own circus," snarled Jacob.
"Your blackmailing is my business," said Chard, "and you don't go out of here until you explain yourself."
"Shan't explain anything."
"Yes, you will. This letter of Finland's, for instance."
Chard spread out the cypher on the table, and Jacob pounced on it like a hawk. He ran a dirty finger along the mystic line, then turned to the inspector with an injured air. "What's all this bally rot?" he asked. "I don't know. Looks like Chinese, I guess."