The cracksman paused and stared into her crimsoning face. The olive beauty was gone. In its place had crept a saffron hue which seemed to center in her eyes. She stamped her foot on the deck.
“Come on,� he said wearily. “Let’s go to your cabin. Climb over these bales. Look out for that tackle. Now through these crates.�
He seized her arm and guided her through the last of the deck stores. They mounted a short ladder and hurried forward. The two cabins assigned to them by the purser were upon the opposite side of the ship from the one occupied by Dutch Gus.
She hastily got out a key, twisted it in her trembling fingers and opened her door. She entered and switched on the light. He followed her after a glance up the deck. He drew her door closed.
“Now, explain everything,� she whispered as she leaned forward and studied his blood-stained face. “Just how did you come to lose it?�
Fay drew off his cap and tossed it to the bunk. She helped him with his overcoat. She stood near the door as he rolled up his sleeves, glanced swiftly at the blood stains, then started pouring water from a racked-pitcher.
“Wait till I clean up,â€� he replied, lathing his hands. “Dutch Gus took everything. They knocked me out and went through my pockets. The package—my money—the revolver—everything is gone. It reminded me of Chicago—only worse!â€�
She caught the laugh in his voice. It reassured her. He was far from being beaten.
“Have you any money?� he asked, turning his hands toward the light and staring at them.
“Yes! Plenty! Thank goodness, mine wasn’t in my bag. But almost everything else was!�