"If I didn't know something of your history, Nichols," he said with a wink, "I might think you'd been looting the strong box of the Sultan of Turkey. Pigeon's blood and as big as my thumb nail! You want to sell it?"
"I need capital."
"What do you want for it?"
"It's worth a thousand pounds of English money. Perhaps more, I don't know. I'll take what I can get."
"I see. You're afraid to negotiate the sale ashore?"
"And you don't want explanations. H-m—leave it with me over night. I'll see the Purser. He'll know."
"Thanks."
The Captain offered the waiter in the shell-jacket the hospitality of his cabin, but Peter Nichols thanked him gratefully and withdrew.
The result of this arrangement was that the ruby ring changed owners. The Purser bought it for two thousand in cash. He knew a good thing when he saw it. But Peter Nichols was satisfied.