“Nuts again, eh?” said Rio, yawning.
Martin turned to go.
“Wait a minute,” called Rio, sitting up. “How do you know we can make her?”
“We’re the fair-haired boys after the other night. Al told me about the ship. But we have to hurry.”
“Are you leavin’ Deane?” asked Rio incredulously.
“Don’t ask me that,” said Martin, his face turning white.
“But I don’t want the damned Verda. I’m going to Santa de Marina.”
“Rio,” Martin opened the door, “this is the last trip we can ever make together. I don’t want the Verda either, but she’ll get me to Panama. From there I can make it to the East Indies. And as far as Santa de Marina is concerned, the Verda goes to Puerto Colombia. You can swim from that point.”
Without a word Rio got up and began to put on his clothes. His bag was packed and Martin didn’t ask him why. When he was dressed they went to the Hall and saw the agent again. This time he greeted them more cordially.