“About hiding things.”
He opened his dungaree suit. The old man saw a long thin packet of brown paper, sealed with wax, tied with many intricate knots.
“I’ve been thinking—and whispering a bit,” Drake went on.
“Oh, aye, doubtless.”
M’Ginley’s eyes glinted. A chief engineer, he knew, could hide things, where nobody, not even the man who had trusted them to him, could find them.
“Oh, aye,” he repeated, “something else has whispered, me bold lad. Fear has, I’m thinking.”
Drake’s face was blank.
“I told the person what you said. There’s been funny work. Cray and the skipper searching yesterday, today, all cabins but mine. Tomorrow—”
“Perhaps yours. Tomorrow the pilot and—”
The old man too was leaning closer. The packet passed.