Chatfield uttered a few grumpy and inarticulate sounds.
"It'll be a bad day for more than one when I do that—as I will," he muttered presently. "Oh aye, I 'll tell the truth—when it suits me! But I'll be out o' this first."
"You'll never get out of this first or last, until you tell us how you got in," said Vickers, assuming a threatening tone. "You'd better tell us all about it, you know. Come now!—you know me and my firm."
Chatfield laughed grimly and shook his much-swathed head.
"I ought to," he said. "I've given 'em more than one nice job and said naught about their bills o' costs, neither, my lad. You keep a civil tongue in your mouth—I ain't done for yet, noways! You let me get off this here place, wherever it is, and within touch of a telegraph office, and I'll make somebody suffer!"
"Andrius, of course," said Copplestone. "Come now, he put you ashore before he sent us off, didn't he? Why don't you own up?"
"Never you mind, young feller," retorted Chatfield. "I was feeling very cast down, but I'm better. I've something that'll keep me going—revenge! I'll show 'em, once I'm off this place—I will so!"
"Look here, Chatfield," said Vickers. "Do you know where this place is?
What is it? Is it on the mainland, or is it an island, or where are we?
It's all very well talking about getting off, but when and how are we to
get off? Why don't you be sensible and tell us what you know?"
The estate agent arose slowly and ponderously, drawing his shawl about him. He looked out seawards. In that black waste the steady beat of the yacht's propellers could be clearly heard, but not a gleam of light came from her, and it was impossible to decide in which direction she was going. And Chatfield suddenly shook his fist at the throbbing sound which came in regular pulsations through the night.
"Never mind!" he said sneeringly. "We aren't at the North Pole neither—I ain't a seafaring man, but I've a good idea of where we are! And perhaps there won't be naught to take me off when it's daylight, and perhaps there won't be no telegraphs near at hand, nor within a hundred miles, and perhaps there ain't such a blessed person as that there Marconi and his wireless in the world—oh, no! Just you wait, my fine fellers—that's all!"