The old chief, M’Ginley, leaned closer.
“Them—them diamonds,” he whispered.
“How’d you know. You’ve broke the seals,” Drake accused.
M’Ginley shrank back.
“Me? What you think? Ain’t I acted straight with you?”
“You’d better.”
Drake thrust one hand inside his dungaree suit. Something bulged under his arm. M’Ginley wasn’t looking at a paper packet this time.
“You go heeled; don’t blame ye,” he blustered. “Why pull a gun on me? They’re searchin’ your cabin.”
He told this with the air of one revealing a previous secret.
“They won’t find nothin’.”