“Stand watch!� he said to Saidee Isaacs. “Let me know if anybody shows up on the deck.�
He sprang inside the cabin and towered over the swindler, who had fallen back to the bunk in a shivering protest. Fay darted a glance about the cabin. It was simple enough. A wash-stand was built in the corner. There was a long, flat trunk under the bunk. Clothes and a cap hung on the back of a half-stool, half-chair.
“Where’s the smoked-glasses?� asked Fay. “Where did you plant them? I want them in three seconds, Harry. One!�
The sharper moistened his lips and glanced out through the cabin door. The girl stood there in an attitude of listening. Her face was turned forward and over the port quarter. Her eyes glowed with suppressed fire. A shout had sounded from the pilot-house. The wheel had been swung as much as three degrees. The ship had reeled and then darted on through the folds of the sea fog.
Fay warily turned and stared at the girl. He stepped toward the door. A shot, muffled and far to the southward, boomed through the night. It was repeated with sullen tones. The ship was signaled to stop!
A door opened next to the cabin occupied by Harry Raymond. The cockney thrust out a long nose and a curious pair of eyes. He stared first out and over the ship’s rail. He turned his head and blinked at Saidee Isaacs. He saw Fay’s alert form in the doorway. Recognizing him, he ducked back into his own cabin and drew shut the door.
“A fine pal,� said the cracksman, brandishing the revolver. “You picked a nice one, Harry. Come clean with the glasses or I’ll count two and then three.�
“I haven’t got them,� stuttered the sharper. “Honest to God, Fay, they’re in the other cabin. Old Vic has them. I let him keep them after a game. Y’ never can tell how people will squeak.�
Fay shot a keen glance at the man’s face. It was
the color of dough—and blue-veined. Fear and weakness had loosened his lips. His teeth showed under a tawny mustache. His hands clutched the edge of the bunk. His knees knocked together.