“You’re the man that’s going after the Dutchman?”
“Yep.”
“D’you want to catch him?”
“Oh, Lord, no,” said Hank. “I’m only going to inquire after his health. Go on, what are you getting at?”
“Well, if you want to catch him, get on deck this instant minute and see I’ve not been followed. Go up casual and have a look round. Keep your eyes skinned for a man with a patch over his left eye. I’m not funning. I mean business. Get a-deck. I tell you I’ve no time to explain.”
Hank stared at the other for a second, then he uncoiled himself, crossed the cabin and vanished up the companion way.
Neither George nor the bearded one spoke a word. They were listening. Then they heard voices.
“Say, you,” came a voice from the wharf, “did y’ see a guy goin’ along here—red-whiskered fella?”
“Man with a red necktie?” came Hank’s voice.