"Well, if you must know," the captive replied, "I was afraid you would extinguish the fire by flooding the room, if I told what the trouble was. Besides, I thought I could get away if you opened the door."
"Did you set the fire?"
"I was lighting a cigarette, and—"
"That's enough," Frank said. "Any one who will smoke cigarettes deserves to be burned alive. Wish we had flooded the room after you got well scorched and left you in it."
"You may wish so before you have done with me," threatened the other.
"I'll get you yet—both of you."
"Well, get back into the den," Frank commanded. "We have had about all the lip we can stand from you. You tried to murder Lieutenant Scott at Mare Island Navy Yard, you attempted our lives when you came to this boat, and now you set us on fire and attempt to run away. You've got a long account to settle, young man."
"You can bluff now," Moore retorted, "but that is all you can do. My father is on the lookout for you and that wise guy you call Ned Nestor. When you go back, without the gold, he'll get you good and plenty. You know it! Now lock me up and go away, for I'm sick of the sight of your impudent faces."
Jimmie forced the prisoner into his room and closed the door.
"You'll have to make a supper off that smoke!" he called out through the keyhole. "You're too fly a guy to take food to."
"I'll charge it up to you!" came back from the den.