“Eighty thousand by Eisenfeldt. I don’t know what crazy fool he’s dealing for, but he offers me eighty thousand.”
Cleigh got up and pressed a wall button. Presently a man stepped into the salon from the starboard passage. He was lank, with a lean, wind-bitten face and a hard blue eye.
“Dodge,” announced Cleigh, smiling, “this is Mr. Cunningham. I want you to remember him.”
Dodge agreed with a curt nod.
“If ever you see him in this cabin when I’m absent, you know what to do.”
“Yes, sir,” replied Dodge, with a wintry smile.
Cunningham laughed.
“So you carry a Texas gunman round with you 34 now? After all, why not? You never can tell. But don’t worry, Cleigh. If ever I make up my mind to accept Eisenfeldt’s offer, I’ll lift the yacht first.”
Cleigh laughed amusedly.
“How would you go about to steal a yacht like this?”