"You would not keep your word," I said.
He shook his head. "You're wrong, doctor, you're wholly wrong. You haven't got my measure yet, hanged if you have. I thought you had a clearer eye. What interest have I in your destruction? None in the world."
"Credit me with some common sense, Holgate," I replied sharply. "Dead men tell no tales."
"Nor dead women," he said meaningly, and I shuddered. "But, good Lord! I kill no man save in fight. Surrender, and I'll keep the wolves off you. They only want the money."
"Which they would not get," I put in.
He smiled, not resenting this insinuation. "That's between me and my Maker," he said with bold blasphemy. "Anyway, I'm not afraid of putting your party at liberty. I know a corner or two. I can look after myself. I've got my earths to run to."
"It's no use," I said firmly.
"Well, there's an alternative," he said, showing his teeth, "and that's war; and when it comes to war, lives don't count, of either sex; no, by blazes, they don't, Dr. Phillimore!"
He stood up and faced me, his mouth open, his teeth apart, and that malicious grin wrinkling all but his smouldering feral eyes. I turned my back on him without a word and descended to the deck. I had not a notion what was to be done, but I knew better than to trust to the ravening mercies of that arch-mutineer.
Holgate was aware that the treasure was gone, and he wished to jockey us into a surrender. That was the gist of my interview, which I hastened to communicate to my companions. Legrand and Barraclough listened with varying faces. Expressions flitted over the former's as shadows over a sea, but the baronet was still as rock, yes, and as hard, it seemed to me.