Greg saw nothing was to be gained by further concealment. "You saw him," he said. "It was the cabman you engaged on the pier the night the Allianca docked."
The young man raised himself on his elbow. "Then all is known?"
"Pretty nearly all."
He fell back. "Well—I'm glad," he said weakly. "The worst agony is over."
Presently he opened his eyes, attacked by a new fear. "Who are you?" he demanded. "And those others down-stairs? His men?"
"Whose?" asked Greg, perplexed.
"De Socotra's."
"No, by God!"
The recumbent figure relaxed. "Detectives, then? I don't mind that."
"Not detectives, either," said Greg. "I'll tell you this much—I'm after de Socotra. I know he's the principal in this affair, not you. I only want you as a means to get him."