“Yes,” Pembroke nodded. “It struck his excellency as being worth while, in case his rebellion here should last long enough.”
“But how could you sink the ‘Castoga’?”
“Not such a difficult thing, if I got myself liked by the officers aboard,” Pembroke replied. “Some afternoon I could put off and come aboard, carrying a suitcase. I could have asked you, or any other officer, to let me leave my case in his cabin over night, couldn’t I?”
“Yes,” Dave said. “But how sink the boat?”
“If the suitcase contained the right contents, and if those contents went off in the dead of night, it would be easy, wouldn’t it?” asked Pembroke, flushing.
“And—you—you—would have done such a thing as that?” gasped Ensign Dave.
“I would have done it—at that time,” Pembroke confessed. “Darrin, drifting through the Orient as I have done for some years, and always needing money—as I did—a fellow gets so he will do many things that he would hardly do in the good old home town.”
Dave shuddered.
“His excellency’s secretary—” Pembroke went on, but Darrin interrupted to ask:
“The ‘Burnt-face’ chap?”