“Which way?”
“Lord! there’s many a way of sellin’ fools.”
Ratcliffe felt that the truth was with Jude, he felt an uneasy conviction that they had been done. The hurried departure of Carquinez seemed to put a seal on the business. He looked at Satan expecting an explosion; but Satan was quite calm and helping himself to canned ox tongue.
“Seein’ I have the chart,” said he, “where’s the sellin’ to come in?”
“But you’ve give him the location,” said Jude. “You said yourself that the place was fixed on every chart and a chap had only to have Lone Reef in his head to put his claws on the wreck.”
“That’s so,” said Satan; “but the location is no use without the chart.”
“What are you gettin’ at?”
“I’m tryin’ to get at your intellects. How often have you seen that chart?”
“Dozens of times.”
“Ever noticed anything queer about it? Not you! Giving sass to your betters is your lay in life instead of usin’ your eyes.” He pushed his plate away, produced the tobacco box, and, taking the chart from it, laid it on the table.