“That is what that man asked me. It must have been off the northwest coast of Madagascar.”
“But don’t you know the exact spot?”
“How could I? I was never out of my cabin till the night she struck.”
Elliott burst into a bitter and uncontrollable roar of laughter. This, then, was the end of the trail he had followed from the centre of the United States at such expense and with such hopes. It ended in a man with whom he had unsuspectingly lived for a month, an aged ex-missionary of infirm moral habits.
“That man who was here asked me the same thing,” repeated Laurie, plaintively. “Why did he want to know where she struck—or why do you want to know? My God! I had almost forgotten it!” he cried, shuddering. “What shall I do? How can I save myself?”
“What on earth do you mean?” cried Elliott.
“He threatened me with disgrace—and arrest, unless I would tell him where the ship went down. He said he would expose me to the British Mission Board—and he would put all the proofs of—of more than that, of other things, in the hands of my daughter. I deserve to be punished. I can face even disgrace for myself—but not for her—not for my little girl.”
“No, she mustn’t hear of anything of the sort,” said Elliott. He considered the situation for several minutes, walking to and fro. “Why did you tell everybody that the ship went down in deep water?” he asked.
The missionary started. “How did you know that I did? It was a sudden temptation. The consul in Bombay asked me if she foundered at sea, and I said she did. It made no difference to any one, and it seemed safer. You must remember the state I was in, after a week in an open boat without water.”
“Well, don’t worry,” said Elliott. “I dare say you didn’t mean any harm, but that little remark of yours has cost a good deal of trouble and a good many thousand dollars. But I’ll see that Sevier doesn’t trouble you. I know him pretty well. I’m going to dine with him to-night, in fact, and I’ll explain things to him.”