"I quite understand. You are smugglers, and wreckers most likely. Perhaps even worse than that. Perhaps you belong to Jack Truscott's gang. Ah, I see you do. Well, your idea is to kill me because I have found your hiding-place."
"That's ev et. Generally we be'ant cruel men, we be'ant. But some things must be done. You zee, dead men kip their saicrets well; livin' ones do'ant. You be a curyus-looking cove, ragged 'nough for a vuss cutter, but you be'ant owr soart."
"No," I said, coolly, "I'm not your sort."
"And you'd splet on us the fust fair chance you got, I spect?"
"Probably."
"Well, that settles et, and so—" He drew his finger across his throat significantly.
I must confess that a curious sensation came into my heart; but I did not betray any fear, and after a few seconds I was able to speak steadily.
"You've done that kind of thing before, I expect?" I said, watching the spokesman's face closely.
"Sam have done et a vew times," he said, looking significantly at his companion, "I do'ant do et oftener than I can 'elp."
The man called Sam grinned, as though he was proud of his distinction.