“Yes.”
There was a tone of defiance in his answer that caused her to look up at him quickly. His blue eyes were narrowed and his face hard.
“And it wasn’t such a hard gale, was it?”
“No. I’ve weathered lots worse with the May. I can’t explain why she sank.”
“And Michael Burns, who was aboard of her, was the insurance inspector, wasn’t he?”
“Yes.” The reply was more a groan than a spoken word. He laughed harshly.
“I can see Nat Burns’s hand in all this,” he cried. “Why didn’t I think of it before? He will dog me till I die because his father lost his life aboard my schooner. Oh, I had no idea it was as bad as this!”
He sank down into the chair again and stared gloomily into the fire.
“I’m glad I came to-night,” he said at last. “I didn’t know all these things. How long has this talk been going round?”