"Not so. She has been taken off the register!" Captain Pontifex showed his white teeth in a smile of perfect confidence. "The point is this, Mr. Dennis: the ship was lost while en route to Vladivostok, laden with supplies for Russia. Those supplies consisted of machine-guns almost entirely; of machine-guns and ammunition.
"Water will not have harmed that cargo, Mr. Dennis—or if so, only slightly. I have taken pains to ascertain that the guns were so wrapped as to be waterproof. The value runs up close to a million and a half of dollars. The inference is plain, eh?"
Tom Dennis sat back, stunned. The inference was plain indeed—a million and a half to be had for the picking up!
CHAPTER VII
JERRY TELLS SOMETHING
As in a daze, Tom Dennis listened while Pontifex went on to explain that Miles Hathaway alone knew where the Simpson lay; that thus far they had been unable to find a way to extract that knowledge from Hathaway—just here the skipper's voice was very silky—and that they counted upon Florence to hit upon some method of communication.
But, the skipper hastened on, this was not the real reason for Florence's having been fetched in person. She was the legal heir of Hathaway, and also his guardian, under the present conditions.
"Of course," said Pontifex blandly, "we might have gone ahead and you would never have known about it; but we don't do business that way, Mrs. Dennis. We want to be aboveboard and honourable in the matter. We dared not thresh the thing out there in the harbour, for you've no idea how curious shipping people are! A breath of suspicion as to our real business, and we'd have been lost. So we simply ran away with you—not a bad joke, eh? Ran away with you to make your fortune!
"Well, to business. Our proposition is that you sign articles with us—Mr. Dennis also, since he is your husband and we want everything shipshape—and we'll land you at Unalaska, there to wait until we've turned the trick. Of course, you realize that we're giving our time, the wages of the men, the ship, and all the rest, to the venture. We've talked over what's fair, and we think that the right thing to do is to offer you twenty per centum of the gross proceeds of the salvage. Is that agreeable?"
Florence, her wide brown eyes fastened upon Tom Dennis, seemed to await his decision in breathless eagerness. He nodded, without speaking.