"Yes. He tried to shoot you. I saw him pass my window. I was waiting. I watched. I knew he would try. Oh, I'm so glad——"
"You knew? You knew that?"
"Yes, yes. He was the—the mate of the coolie you threw overboard in Batavia. You know, they always travel in pairs. You didn't know that?"
"No; I did not know. But I could have defended myself easily enough if it had not been for——"
"Your clip of cartridges? Can you forgive me? Can you ever forgive me for taking them out? I took them out. Oh, Mr. Moore, believe me, I am concealing nothing! I did remove the clip, and in my carelessness I forgot to give them back to you when you left my room."
"I see. Have you them?"
"Yes."
"Please give them to me. You have not by any chance, in another of those careless moods of yours, happened to tamper with the bullets, have you?"
"Mr. Moore——" she gasped, clutching her white hands to her breast in indignation.
"You are clever," said Peter sarcastically. "You're altogether too damn clever. What your game is, I'm not going to take the trouble to ask. You—you——"