He acknowledged that there was no reason why they should not have business relations, but there seemed to be something underhand in these stealthy visits by night.
When he got up in the morning he went straight into Dick Gollop’s room, and roused him.
“What do you want?” asked the constable, sleepily. “It’s not my watch yet.”
“Wake up and listen!” replied Martin.
“Been fighting again, eh?”
“No. Do wake up; it’s something you ought to know.”
“Well, spin your yarn, and don’t be long about it, or my eyes’ll shut, and then my ears won’t be no manner of good.”
Martin wasted no words in recounting the story of Blackbeard’s two midnight visits and the conveying up to Mr. Seymour’s room of the two brass-bound boxes. Gollop began to snore in the middle of it, but was roused again by a vigorous shake.
“And you spoil a man’s sleep for that!” the constable grumbled. “I wouldn’t have thought it of you!”
“But surely——”