Suddenly the American remembered Jenson's cry, stopped by a brutal blow from the doctor. "If you let them take me, Herr Doctor, I'll tell—" what? The secretary had started to say the same thing as he grovelled at Sara Helmuth's feet, and as he recalled this Hammer sprang up.
"Jenson! Come aft here, and move spry unless you want me to come after you."
The secretary, his hands still bound, had been stretched out on one of the side-cushions near Baumgardner, and at Hammer's words he got up and shambled aft.
The American was growing less anxious with every moment to push the investigation into Schlak's death; at any rate before he and Miss Helmuth had had some kind of an explanation with John Solomon. Once Jenson was turned over for perjury, Solomon, the Arab, and Baumgardner would of necessity be gathered into the same net, while the legal complications might be unending. And Cyrus Hammer had both the sailor's and the broker's fear of lawyers.
"Look here, my man," he addressed Jenson with curt asperity, the pallid, almost corpse-like features of the man standing out in the starlight clearly. Hammer noted absently that over the shoulder of Jenson the Southern Cross hung low above the horizon's rim.
"Miss Helmuth and I know some things, and we want to know more, especially about your master's dealings with Professor Helmuth in Lisbon. You know, and you can tell us. If you do, I promise you that you'll not go up before the court for perjury, though we may hold you for a few days aboard the yacht. If you refuse, then you'll take your medicine for perjury and for your murderous attack on me. Choose."
Jenson chose, and quickly. He sank down in the bottom of the boat awkwardly, because of his bound arms, and the terror in his face was so great that the girl turned away from him, unable to watch longer.
"I'll tell, Mr. Hammer, if—if you'll let me go."
"I promise, Jenson," said Hammer quietly. "But mind you don't lie, for we know enough to test the truth of your story."
"I'll tell the truth, Mr. Hammer, so help me! Professor Helmuth was sick, and we knew that he had found something big in one of the libraries. I was nursing him, and when he got worse I went through his papers one night, then took them to the Herr Doctor who kept them.