"Why, that Pye has been in league with the mutineers all along, and—good Lord, now I understand what was the meaning of his hints last night. He knew the attack was to be made, and he is a coward. He locked himself up to drink. Now he is gone."
"Gone!" echoed Barraclough and Lane together; and there was momentary silence, which the latter broke.
"By gum, Pye's done us brown—browner than a kipper! By gum, to think of that little wart getting the bulge on us!"
"I should like to know your reasons, doctor," said Prince Frederic at last.
"I'm hanged if I can puzzle it out yet myself," said Barraclough. "If they've got it, why the deuce do they come and demand it from us?"
"Oh, they haven't got it," I said. "It's only Holgate and Pye. The rank and file know nothing, I'll swear. As for my reasons, sir, here they are"; and with that I told them what I knew of Pye from my first meeting with him, giving an account of the transactions in the "Three Tuns," and narrating many incidents which now seemed in the light of my discovery to point to the treachery of the clerk. When I had done, Lane whistled, the Prince's brow was black, but Barraclough's face was impassive. He looked at me.
"Then you are of opinion that Holgate is running this show for himself?" he asked.
"I will wager ten to one on it," I answered. "That's like him. He'll leave the others in the lurch if he can. He's aiming at it. And he'll leave Pye there, too, I shouldn't wonder. And if so, what sort of a man is that to make terms with?"
Barraclough made no answer. For a man of his even nature he looked troubled.
"If this it so, what are you in favour of?" he said at last.