“What did you want to get out of Cuba for?”
“Is there any special reason why I should tell you?” asked Appleby, who was a trifle nettled.
“It seems to me there is. Anyway, back you go into your boat unless you satisfy me.”
Appleby looked at the man a moment, and was pleasantly impressed, in spite of the abruptness of his manner. He had a quiet bronzed face and steady eyes, while the faint ring of command in his voice did not seem out of keeping with them.
“Then if you will listen for a minute or two I will try to tell you,” he said.
“Quick as you can!”
Appleby spoke rapidly, disregarding Harper, who seemed anxious to tell the story too, and the commander nodded.
“Who is the American that employed you?” he said.
“Cyrus P. Harding.”
The commander, who started, cast a swift glance at him, and then rising abruptly signed to a man at the door.