“What is he doing about the Astarte?”
“Nothing. He has no evidence at present. I asked him what he would do if she sailed? He said, ‘She won’t sail. If she did it would be only to pick up another cargo, and he would have her then.’”
“I believe,” said Edmund, “he would have had us all right in the end—only for you.”
“Edmund,” I said after a long pause, “what about Jakoub?”
“Jakoub is at present our only risk. Fortunately he doesn’t know our name. Nobody knows that, but of course he could identify us. He can’t give us away unless he’s caught and done for himself, then of course he would. I don’t think he will be caught, but if not he will try blackmail.”
I shuddered at the thought of spending the rest of my life under the threats of this man. I remembered the impulse I had felt to shoot him, and dreaded the possibility of being subjected to such a temptation again.
“Couldn’t you take him home with you?”
“He wouldn’t come. And what could we do with him if he did? It would only make it easier for him to start his blackmailing. He’ll probably want to get to England in any case, and there’s no use our giving him a passage!”
A note came from Captain Welfare announcing that the Astarte would be ready to start in the morning, and that he would meet us with the felucca as arranged. He was too busy to join us then.
“He must have had a heavy day,” I said.