I smiled. 'His method of dispatch was rather more unorthodox,' I said. 'However, I imagine it's sufficient for you to know that I got the samples safely.'
'And you know where the mineral is located?' he asked.
I saw no reason to disabuse his mind of what was a natural supposition. 'The samples wouldn't have been of much use to is without that information,' I pointed out.
He hesitated and then said, 'I think we could come to some sort of an arrangement. Suppose we make straight for Bergen? I can then put specific proposals before you and you can get Sir Clinton-'
His voice died away. He was gazing past me. I turned. Dahler was standing at the top of the companionway. I hadn't seen him since we left the Thames, except once when I'd stumbled into him in the half darkness as he made his way to the afterheads. Jill had been looking after him. The sun emerged from behind a cloud and his lined face looked grey in the bright light. He had on a sweater of Dick's that was several sizes too large for him and a pair of old grey trousers turned up twice at the bottom. He was looking at Jorgensen. Once again I was conscious of me latent enmity of these two men. Dahler weaved his way awkwardly across the pitching deck. He must have heard what Jorgensen had been saying for he said, 'So it's reached the stage of specific proposals, has it?'
'What is that to do with you?' Jorgensen snapped.
'Nothing,' the cripple replied with that crooked smile of his. 'I am interested, that is all. You are like a dog worrying over a bone. You have buried it, but you are afraid some other dog will come along and dig it up. You were even questioning Miss Somers.'
Jorgensen said nothing. He was watching the other with a strange intentness. The man's nerves were plucking at a little muscle in his jaw.
'I told her to tell you nothing,' Dahler added.
'Since when have you become her guardian?' Jorgensen asked with a sneer.