“For that matter we could drop it overboard from the felucca without bothering about the Astarte at all.”
“No,” Edmund argued, “some of the crew would talk. Jakoub will know what we’ve done within forty-eight hours of their coming back. He would get it up again if he had any clue to its position.”
“Besides,” I said, “I stipulated that I was to see it destroyed.”
“So you did, sir,” Captain Welfare admitted, “and that will be done as per agreement. So we’ll have to get it on the Astarte.”
“Are you going to bring it all the way home, then?” I asked.
“That is impossible, of course,” Edmund put in impatiently, “we’ll have to get rid of the Astarte at Marseilles, and then disappear ourselves.”
“Get rid of the Astarte?” I repeated. “Is that necessary?”
“I’m afraid it is, sir,” said Captain Welfare. “You see they won’t search us on the way because they will think we are going to pick up a fresh cargo. But we dare not leave the port in her again. This friend of yours knows too much, and he might get Jakoub while we are away.”
“I see,” I said, regretfully, “but I don’t see how you will keep your promise about letting me see this stuff destroyed—not that it really matters. I’m quite willing to trust you.”
“I’ll not ask you to do that again, sir,” said Welfare very solemnly, “you are bound for Marseilles too. We shall have a day or two’s start of you, but you will get there first. I promise you faithfully you will see the last of the cargo.”