Francis Delavan grinned. Then, noting the ashen-gray look on his friend’s face, he stepped over, walking with the nervous one and laying a kindly hand on the other’s shoulder.
“Eben, you always let yourself get unduly excited. What you need, just now, is a good, sound night’s sleep.”
“Sleep?” shuddered the nervous one. “I couldn’t think of it. My nerves——”
“You’ve let them cut loose again, Eben, and make life a burden to you. There’s no need of it.”
“But you know, Frank, the big money deals we’re engaged in. You know well that some men would give their souls to possess our information, both that which we have and expect to get.”
“True, perhaps,” admitted Mr. Delavan, nodding. “But the only way they have tried to reach us is through the bribing of our young captain. Halstead and his friends can’t be bribed, so the rascals can’t hope to do anything. I have full faith in our crew.”
“Something terrible is almost certain to happen, just the same,” insisted Mr. Moddridge, his voice quaking.
“Oh, nonsense, man! Go to sleep. Your nerves need rest.”
“Laugh at me,” muttered Moddridge, his face now showing a sickly smile. “But the day will come soon, Frank, when you will wish you had listened to me.”
“But haven’t I listened to you?” inquired Mr. Delavan, with a mock-injured air. “Eben, are you going to be disappointed because I won’t let my nerves rule me, too?”