"You people have all got a bee in your bonnet in respect of a compromise," he said with a sneer. "You follow the Prince, and God knows he's no judge. He's a fanatic. Hang it, Phillimore, haven't you tumbled to that yet?"
He was a fanatic, it was true, but I did not like Barraclough's tone. "Then you would trust the lives of this company, including the ladies, to Holgate?" I asked sharply.
"With proper reservations and safeguards," he said.
I threw out my hands. "You talk of safeguards, and you're dealing with a cut-throat. What safeguards could you have?"
"Well, we might stipulate for a surrender of all the firearms," said Barraclough, knitting his brow.
"It wouldn't wash," said Legrand decidedly. "Do you think they'd give up all they had? No, it would only be a pretence—a sham. I agree with the doctor that Holgate's safety is only spelled out by our deaths. There you have it in a nutshell. The man can't afford to let us go free."
Barraclough assumed a mule-like look. "Very well," said he. "Then we're wiped out as soon as he cares to move," and he turned away angrily.
An hour later I was passing the ladies' cabins when a door flew open, and Mademoiselle jumped out on me in a state of agitation.
"What is this, doctor?" she cried. "This 'Olgate offers to put us on shore safe, and you refuse—refuse to give him up the money. You must not. You must bargain with him. Our lives depend on it. And you will arrange that he leaves us sufficient to get to civilisation again."
"Mademoiselle," said I quietly, "I am not in authority here. It is the Prince."