"But this is in our honour, then?" suggested Mademoiselle Yvonne prettily.
I had no fancy for her, but I did not mind her little sarcasm.
I bowed. "No doubt to celebrate my oratory," I said, recovering myself. "But as we do not know how long Mr. Holgate will condescend to continue his compliment we may as well make the most of it."
"You're a cool hand, Phillimore," said Barraclough, now with the good temper of one who has triumphed.
"But none so cool as Holgate," I returned him in the same spirit, "for he has just warned me that his reasons for not attacking us are at an end." He regarded me interrogatively. "Holgate is not only a cool hand, but a cunning hand, a far-reasoning hand. He has let us take care of his treasure until he was ready for it."
"What do you mean?" asked Barraclough in astonishment.
"His men might have become demoralised if he had seized the safe. He has, therefore, feigned to them that it was not practicable. That has been his reason for our security—not tender mercy for us, you may guess. So we have kept his treasure safe, and now—he wants it."
"Why now?" queried Barraclough, who frowned.
"That's Holgate's secret. I suppose he knows what he is going to do and what destination he wants. We don't. Anyway, we're turning through Magellan to-night, and he has no further use for us."
"I wish I'd shot that fiend to-day," said Barraclough savagely.