“The boy. He can hear even a whisper from the pantry while lying in his berth. I tried the experiment a little while ago, an’ know that not a word could have escaped him.”
“And he heard what I said?”
“That’s the size of it. He came to ask me not to leave him behind when the brig was scuttled, an’ you can fancy what a turn it gave me. He didn’t seem to think it anything out of the way to tell the whole story, an’ I’ve taken the precaution of lockin’ him in his room.”
“That was right. He must fall overboard before daylight, or we shall stand a good chance of going to jail if we ever show up on shore again.”
“Now don’t talk foolishness,” Stout replied impatiently. “In the first place, I won’t have murder committed; it’s bad enough to scuttle a vessel. Then, again, it couldn’t be done without some of the crew knowing about it, and even if they simply had suspicions the loss of the brig immediately after the boy was silenced would show up the whole matter.”
“But what shall we do?”
“That’s what I don’t know. All I can say is as to what mustn’t be done an’ leave you to figger out the rest.”
The captain was silent for fully a minute, and then said abruptly:
“I wish you’d bring the bottle in here; I need something to clear my head a bit.”
Mr. Stout obeyed at once, and when he returned the master of the brig had seen a way out of what promised to be a very serious difficulty.