“I think we must do one of two things. Either continue our investigations until we learn what is going on, or else clear out and tell the police what we have learned.”
Merriman made a gesture of dissent.
“Not that, not that,” he cried. “Anything rather than the police.”
Hilliard gazed vacantly on the long line of the coast.
“Look here, old man,” he said, “Wouldn’t it be better if we discussed this thing quite directly? Don’t think I mean to be impertinent—God knows I don’t—but am I not right in thinking you want to save Miss Coburn all annoyance, and her father also, for her sake?”
“We needn’t talk about it again,” Merriman said in a hard voice, looking intently at the stem of the mast, “but if it’s necessary to make things clear, I want to marry her if she’ll have me.”
“I thought so, old man, and I can only say—the best of luck! As you say, then, we mustn’t call in the police, and as we can’t leave the thing, we must go on with our own inquiry. I would suggest that if we find out their scheme is something illegal, we see Mr. Coburn and give him the chance to get out before we lodge our information.”
“I suppose that is the only way,” Merriman said doubtfully. After a pause Hilliard went on:
“I’m not very clear, but I’m inclined to think we can do no more good here at present. I think we should try the other end.”
“The other end?”