"I'm 'shured," Dick rejoined. "Good big policy and I don't pay the premiums."
"Who does pay them?" Andrew asked, in a quiet, insistent voice; but Dick only grinned.
"That'sh secret, ole man. You're very good fellow, but don't know everything. Don't bother me any more; I'm sleepy."
He was silent after this, but Whitney waited until he thought Dick was really asleep.
"He looked sober when he joined us at the village," he said.
"I think he was," Andrew agreed. "Perhaps he'd drunk enough to make him want more, and brought a bottle away. No doubt, we'll find it when we clean up the punt." Then he forced a smile. "You'll have to go without your eggs."
"That's obvious. But what did he mean about his being insured, and somebody else's paying the premiums?"
"I don't know, and don't expect to get any more information when he's sober, but I'll see what Mackellar thinks. Sometimes I feel like giving up the whole business. Dick's too clever for me; and when I turn to the other matter, I'm brought to a full stop."
Whitney nodded sympathetically.
"It's an awkward job, but you won't let up. You're not a quitter, and luck or Mackellar may help you through."